Before We Turn to Stone
by TheSecretAdmirer
Summary: 3rd of The Eden Trilogy/sequel to I Know You Know Who I Am. War has once again descended on Wizarding Europe, and Leolin & Draco struggle to save their world from the oppressive New Empire. They quickly learn that freedom isn't free, & its cost may be more than they're willing to pay. To quell the darkness, they will be forced to choose between what is right, and what is easy...R&R
1. Chapter 1: East of Eden

**a/n:** I'm ba-acckkk. I hope you are as excited as I am for **Before We Turn to Stone** , the final installment of the Eden Trilogy. But before we dive in, I want to say a few quick words. First, thank you everyone for all your support, it means everything to me. Please keep the reviews coming, they really do keep me motivated and also they make me so happy.

Second, if you want more insight into Ginny and Blaise's relationship, please read **Like a Lonely House**. Full disclosure, I meant to have it finished by the time I published this but then life happened and I didn't so I will be updating both in tandem.

Third, I'm dying to know what everyone got as their patronuses! Mine is a leopard. Let me know in your comments!

Fourth, as always, I am looking for new OCs. I can't promise I will feature everyones, but I always love suggestions. I already have two amazing ones from **vampslover101** and **WitchLove** , but I'm always looking for more. See an outline for character making below. I'd love to get some Ilvermorny grads in the mix.

Finally, please get your tissues and be prepared to cry...a lot. and laugh. and gasp. and awe. and scream in frustration. and whoop in triumph. But then maybe cry more. My point is, this is wartime; lives will be lost. Please mentally prepare yourselves for that.

And now, without (any more) ado, I give you **Before We Turn to Stone!**

* * *

 **Before We Turn to Stone: Third (and final) installment of The Eden Trilogy**

* * *

 **Chapter One: East of Eden**

As they spun away from the Manor, from the massacre, from Lucius and Adrian, and their fallen enemies and friends, Leolin clung desperately to Draco, her face buried in his chest, trying to evade what felt like the only word left in her addled brain: war. For the second time in her life, Wizarding Britain was at war, and if Leolin had though she'd been afraid when Voldemort had risen to power, it was nothing compared to what she was feeling now. She'd been a child then; a spectator to the action, if even that. The last war, though brutal, had lasted only 131 days, beginning in with Voldemort's ascension in June and ending with his death in the now-infamous 11th of October.

Unlike Ginny and Draco and many of her other classmates, Leolin hadn't been allowed to return to Hogwarts that September, and she'd spent the majority of that time exiled in France by her parents, who'd been desperate to shield her from the carnage The guilt at not being at the castle that night and defending its liberty had always gnawed at her, especially considering what it had cost classmates like the Creevey brothers, and she'd assuaged it all these years by promising herself that if the call to fight ever sounded again, she'd be on the front line. She considered that promise as a flash of Adrian darted through her mind, his lip curled in a feral snarl as she napped his priceless wand in two.

She would more than get her wish.

They burst back into corporal form with a sickening crack, and Leolin stumbled away and immediately vomited. The bile burned her throat, which still ached from being choked so violently.

Draco's keen eyes were already scanning the darkened cobblestone street, but at the ugly sound of her wretches, he glanced back at her in concern.

"Are you alright?" he demanded softly as she wiped her mouth.

"Fine," she croaked.

He nodded, advancing and grabbing her gently by the crook of the elbow and tugging her into a shadow. They were back in the posh Wizarding enclave tucked behind Muggle Kensington, just down the street from Draco and Gen's flat. The street was alive with violent activity, and Draco pressed Leolin into a nearby wall, shielding her as a troupe of masked men tore by, laughing and screaming.

"Snatchers," Draco breathed in contempt.

"What are they doing here?" Leolin croaked. "This is a Pureblood neighborhood."

"Spot of looting, I imagine," Draco sneered grimly. "C'mon."

"Drake," Leolin begged. "We shouldn't be back here. They're still looking for us."

"We won't be here long enough for us to find us," Draco assured her, approaching his own flat door. It had been marked with a blood red x.

He kicked open the door, which was slightly ajar, and raised his wand. She drew hers as well.

The place had been torn to absolute shreds, and the wood floor of the open space was littered with shattered glass from bottles of expensive alcohol which had been half drunk then smashed. The art on the walls had to slashed and the furniture overturned, and sticky footprints were visible through the mess of spilled booze. Draco didn't seem to notice or care.

"Stay close to me," Draco said, casting a hominum revelio.

Nothing happened, and Draco immediately tore for the stairs.

"Rodames," he cried, wand still raised. Leolin followed him, wand still drawn.

"Rodames!" Draco repeated, voice a bit strangled now.

Leolin tried not to notice the fresh blood on the carpet, or imagine what Deatheaters would likely do to Draco's prized possession if they'd managed to find him.

Draco arched right towards his study; when no one was home, it was Rodames's favourite spot. Leolin headed left, towards Draco's bedroom. The floor was strewn with Gen's sinful undergarments, and the word "whore" had been burned into the carpet.

"Roddy?" Leolin croaked, licking her dry lips, the light from her wand flicking across the darkness as she cautiously pushed the door open. "Ou es-tu? Viens!"

As she preceded farther into the cavernous space, she felt her heart fall away from its severed strings and sizzle into the acid in her stomach, and if Adrian had left her enough voice to scream, she would have.

There was dark blood, so fresh it was still glistening wet, soaking the beige carpet, and in the centre of the room a dark figure lay immobile.

At this point she was too emotionally ravaged to cry, but her hands trembled. The only light besides her wand's reedy beam was the moonlight pouring from the skylights fifteen feet above her head, and they bathed the trembling mass in deathly blue rays.

She throw the light from her wand across them, realising with swelling and sickening relief that it was a human. She met Stan Shunpike's terrified gaze, eying the gaping wound at his neck, which had been torn open. The savage bite seemed to have missed the main artery, by the wound still oozed blood.

She followed the small trail, which lead under the bed. Gingerly she knelt, lip trembling as she spotted a trembling Rodames huddled as far back as the space allowed, muzzle stained crimson. He still had Shunpike's stubby pine wand clutched in his teeth, and he was crying softly.

"Drake!" Leolin screamed, voice barely rising above a strangled whisper as she straightened.

Draco burst into the room, the door slamming and locking behind him as she gestured to the bed and he collapsed to the floor.

Rodames began to whine, though he didn't move.

Draco looked relieved, and it was only then that he glanced back at Shunpike. The concern in his eyes quickly drained as he surveyed the pitiful man. Leolin knew what he was going to do before he did it, and she was surprised to find she had no desire to stop him.

Draco stood over him, surveying him with fury. Leolin could tell that Shunpike knew too. Draco raised his wand.

"Avada Kadavra."

Shunpike's trembling ceased as the light faded from his glassy eyes. Draco stepped over his corpse as if he was no more than a fallen lamp before carefully kneeling back down next to the bed.

"Rodames," he urged gently. "Viens."

Rodames only whimpered, and Draco patted the carpet softly. Behind him, Leolin tried not to disolve back into panic. They'd undoubtedly lingered too long, and one of Adrian's crew was surely on their way around. Or perhaps Adrian himself, come back to finish the dance they'd started earlier. Leolin shuddered at the thought.

"Je suis ici," Draco was assuring Rodames. "Tout va bien, mon pote."

Rodames slowly began inching forward, drawn to Draco's soothing voice.

"It's okay," Draco told him again. "Viens a moi."

Rodames wiggled free at last, launching into Draco's arms. Leolin let out a shuddering gasp of relief as Draco took the gnarled wand from Rodames's teeth.

"Tout va bien. Je suis ici."

Just then there was a pounding on the door.

"Drake," Leolin croaked.

One arm still wrapped around the dog, Draco cast a small box into the air, and it sprang to a phone box.

"Bombarda!" the intruder hissed, and the door splintered. Leolin screamed as Tate Rawle peered into the hole he'd made in the door, snarling.

"Get in!" Draco told Leolin, and she dove inside as Tate blew the door completely apart.

Draco flew in after her.

"Rodames!" he screamed desperately to the petrified Rodames. "Viens!"

Tate fired a curse which richeted off the box, denting the side.

"Roddy!" Draco begged, but Rodames stood frozen with fear, the retrieved wand back in his mouth.

"Accio!" Leolin screamed as Tate advanced, and the petrified Rodames flew towards them, yelping and vainly scrambling mid-air. The minute he'd reached Draco's outstretched arms the door slammed shut immediately, and another of Tate's cursed pelted the side, even as the box began to rise.

It rocketed upwards, blasting through the ceiling. It smashed into a heavy supporting beam with a deafening boom, shattering the glass of the skylight. The joist which served as the ceiling's spine splintered violently on impact.

Leolin heard Tate's alarmed cry as the beam thundered to the ground, but the sound grew immediately distant as the soared into the starry night.

After a minute the box seemed to steady itself, and Leolin gave an exhale, glancing up at Draco finally.

He immediately bent to kiss her, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulder.

"We made it," she breathed, a tears slipping down her cheek as she laid her head on his strong chest. She could feel his heart hammering in her ear.

"Thank Merlin," he said, stroking her head and tipping his head back on the wall in relief. "If I'd lost you tonig—"

"Never," she promised.

It was then that her floo began to smoke, and she fearfully clicked it open. It was from Felix, and she gave a small sob of relief.

 _Ministry's fallen, but Effie and I made it out._

"Who is it?" Draco asked, head still tipped back against the wall with eyes closed.

"Felix," she answered.

 _Stay Safe_ , she wrote back. _I'll floo you in a few days when things have settled down._

"What's he saying?" Draco asked in soft voice.

"Nothing we didn't already know. The Ministry fell. He's safe, though."

"That's good news," Draco murmured, and for once she could detect no sarcasm in his voice.

They fell silent a moment, the wind swishing soothingly outside. Wherever they were going, they were making excellent time. She thought momentarily to ask, but she realised after a second she didn't care.

"How long?" she murmured.

"A couple hours," he promised, running a soothing hand through her hair. "Sleep. I'll wake you up when we get there."

Her eyes fluttered closed as soon as he suggested it, and she eased down to lay her head in his lap. What felt like only minutes later he was shaking her awake gently.

"Cal," he whispered softly. "Wake up. We're here."

The box touched gently down, the doors sliding gracefully open. Draco tugged Leolin gently to her feet as Rodames stirred, bounding contentedly out with his makeshift bone still clutching protectively in his teeth.

Leolin stepped gingerly out onto the soft white sand of a deserted beach, which faded into lapping azure water fifty or so yards off. It's brilliant colour was undiminished by the lack of sunlight. The full moon was almost directly overhead; it must have been midnight.

"Where are we?" she asked, accepting his proffered hand as she tugged off trainers and socks and wiggled her toes through the silky sand.

"Mallorca," he said. "Do you want to go for a swim?"

She shook her head. It was just hitting her that there was nothing keeping them apart anymore, and she wanted nothing more to be naked and in his arms. There was no world to save here, no Adrian on their tail. No Gen, no baby—Merlin, she'd yet to even process there never really had been—and no gag. Nothing.

Her love for Draco immediately rushed into all the cracks the last five years had created, and she turned and immediately began tugging at his battered tux.

"I love you," she whispered as he bent to kiss her.

She rose onto tiptoes to deepen it, and she slid her tongue into his mouth as he lifted her gently off her feet.

"You too," he said huskily, hoisting her more fully into his arms as she ran her fingers through his silky hair. "And I'm going to fuck you until the sun comes up."

In response she kissed him again, more hungrily this time. He grabbed her arse and pushed her hips against his even as he began carrying her to the small but luxurious cedar and glass cabin several feet off.

He marched them up the gangplank and into the bedroom, whose french doors opened directly onto a balcony which jutted gracefully over the water.

He opened them with a soft flick of his wrist, and a soft breeze blew in, rippling the sheer curtains.

He set her down and immediately heeled out of his dress shoes and socks. She reached to pull her shirt off, but Draco tugged her hands away so he could do it himself. He pushed his palms under the hem as he kissed her heatedly again.

"Merlin you are beautiful," he breathed raggedly, finally pulling it over her head. "I can't believe you're all mine."

"Forever," she promised, grinding against him softly. He was already hard.

He bent to feast on her neck , but it was still incredibly tender, and se gave a soft yelp of surprise when his lips ghosted over the contused skin.

"I'm sorry," he said at once, almost leaping back. "I didn't mean—are you alright?"

"Fine," she assured him in her strained voice. "It's just tender."

"We don't have to—" he paused, running a hand through his hair. She could still see the obvious bulge in his trousers. "—tonight," he finished.

"No," she said firmly, stepping forward to stroke his chest. "I want to."

"It's been a long day," he countered softly. "We can just go to bed."

She let the hand drop.

"Is this how it's going to be?" she asked in a small voice. Suddenly it felt like they were no longer alone. She could feel Adrian's spectre watching her, and she fought off a shudder. She could tell Draco was thinking the same.

"What do you mean?" he replied.

"Please Drake," Leolin pleased. "I can't bear for you to look at me like that, like I'm some broken thing."

"I'm not," he defended.

"Yes you are," she pressed. "But you don't have to worry about me. I'm tough."

She reached forward, easing his battered dinner jacket off his lithe shoulders and giving him a smouldering look. She could hear his breath catch slightly as she rose to her tip toes again, pressing a hot, open mouthed kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"I'm fine," she breathed. "More that fine, in fact. I'm about to shag the man I love."

She deftly worked the buttons of his dress shirt, letting it flutter to the floor. Then, starting at his neck, she began kissing her way down his toned chest and stomach, eventually kneeling as she tugged his belt undone.

She grazed his hipbone with her teeth, and he groaned and bucked against her waiting mouth. She unzipped his trousers, freeing his impressive erection.

"Oh gods," he pleaded, tangling his hand in her hair as she laved the tip. It was so silky. She hadn't had a chance to admire it the night before, and she'd forgotten how—beautiful it was. She traced a hand down his length and he shuddered in delight.

Wasting no time, she wrapped her fingers around his trim hips, urging him to trust. He found a rhythm easily, groaning again as he rolled his pelvis.

"I forgot how incredible you look with your lips around my cock," he panted huskily, and she laughed in response, the vibrations sending another shudder up his spine.

"Do that again and I'm going to lose it," he warned, and she did, massaging his heavy, perfectly hemispherical stones. She felt them tightening to his body as he released down her throat.

"Fuck woman," he hissed and she rose to her feet and kissed him.

"Get on the bed," he growled softly against her lips, tugging at them with pearly teeth. "Now."

He watched her with hooded eyes as she peeled her black trousers down her toned legs, followed by her knickers. She turned to face the large, luxurious bed, and she felt him push up behind her as he urged her forward.

"Bend over," he commanded, pushing her hands onto the mattress before slapping her arse soundly.

He then knelt, spreading the two globes and laving her deliberately. It had been ages since she'd been touched like that, and she mewed quietly.

"There's no one here but us," he reminded her, tonguing her tight hole again. "Go ahead and scream."

"Draco," she whined as he continued to use his right hand to keep her cheeks spread as he used his left hand to massage her clit. He'd always been an excellent multi-tasker. She began to feel woozy with pleasure, but suddenly he stopped.

"On you back," he demanded, spanking her again.

She obliged, and he crawled on top of her, spreading her arms. Keeping her wrists pinned, he muttered a quick spell, and they were immediately glued to the mattress. He parted her legs and did the same to her ankles, and she gave a throaty laugh.

"What are you doing?" she asked huskily.

"Keeping you from interrupting me," he replied in the same tone, kissing is way down to her slick centre. He then set to work, tongue flicking her clit before working in and out of her. He blew on her glistening slit and she shuddered. She was a hair's breath from orgasm when he hesitated, pulling her back slightly. Still, she was dangerously close to the edge.

"Do you have any idea how good you taste?" he asked, almost letting her fall again before stopping her at the very last moment. "If I could only eat one thing for the rest of my life, it would be your sweet little cunt."

"Oh gods," she pleaded as he set back to his task. However, as she approached the edge a third time, he gave her a hearty shove instead, and she screamed as she fell.

The edging had built up a powerful orgasm, and it rocked her body so violently she almost felt dazed.

"Hmm," Draco purred arrogantly, pressing a kiss to her opening, which continued to throb.

"I think that was the best orgasm I've ever had," she breathed honestly, and he surged up to kiss her. His tongue tasted like ripened blackberries. She expect him to slide inside of her, she was more than ready for him, but he didn't. Instead he slithered back to her open thighs and began eating her out again. As before, he brought her to the brink several times before sending her over.

As the seismic orgasm washed over her, she felt a wild, titanic feeling engulf her, and she burst into half sobs.

"Leolin," Draco demanded, releasing her arms so she could drive her hands into his hair. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" she sobbed, beaming.

He gave a small laugh.

"Then why are you crying?"

"Because I love you," she explained. "And I finally have you back. And because I'm so bloody turned on right now."

She reached down to stroke his length.

"I need you inside of me," she demanded. "I need to feel you."

He nodded, and she gripped his shoulder and arched her back.

"Fuck," he groaned. "You feel so good. I swear I'm already close."

"Ride me," she said hoarsely in response. " _Hard._ "

He acquiesced, gripping the headboard for leverage and slamming into her. She could feel his orchids slapping against her arse, and they were slick from her. He was wearing his falcon medallion, and watching it swing made her want to cry again.

He leaned back a little so he could watch himself sliding in and out of her, and she ran her left hand up his glistening chest. He caught her wrist and kissed her palm.

"I can't wait to finally marry you," he panted. "I love you."

She sat up so she was nestled in his lap, riding him.

"Until the sun rises in the West," she promised, and he kissed her, still pumping.

"And the mountain blow in the wind like leaves," he finished. "And even after. I promise to never stop."

She clenched deliberately around him as he said it even as she increased her speed and he cried out.

"Fuck," he whined. "I can't hold on anymore."

"Then let go," she urged, bending to kiss him softly.

He did as she commanded, and she felt a wave of calm wash over him as the orgasm took over.

"I love you," he breathed as she kissed him again.

She purred her ascent as she curled at his side. By this time the sun was beginning to rise, and they watched in silence as the searing dawn peeled away the remaining shreds of night. Leolin thought about what Felix had told her in what had likely been her most desperate hour. _The night was always darkest before the dawn._ As she watched the new day rise, cheek to Draco's chest as she listened to his heart beat, she realised that he's been right.

"What are you thinking about?" Draco murmured in a soft voice, stroking her hair.

"That I've finally made it home," she whispered, voice tight again. "That for the first time since our wedding day, I feel...safe."

"You have nothing more to fear," he assured her softly. "I'm here now, and I'm never leaving."

* * *

When Leolin awoke mid-morning, it was to find she was alone; Draco was gone. Her stomach clenched and her mouth immediately began to water.

"Drake?" She called exploratorily. Her throat still ached, and her voice was still extremely hoarse, though less so that it had been the night before.

There was no response, and she stumbled out of bed, heart squeezing into her larynx, making her slightly breathless.

"Draco!"

She tripped into her forgotten bra and knickers, fighting down hysteria. How had Lucius found them so quickly, and why hadn't they taken her, too?

She frantically ripped open the pocket door to the small of luxurious washroom, calling his name again. She stumbled out onto the sun-soaked deck, eyes fruitlessly searching the empty azure waves.

"Draco!" she begged again, willing herself not to cry. Now was not the time for hysterics.

Suddenly she felt a hand wrap around her ankle, and she screamed. However, a second later Draco's head emerged from the water, and he was laughing.

"Malefiscent," she practically whined, jerking her foot away from him and driving the heels of her hands into her eyes to keep any excess liquid from leaking out. She was still raw from the Manor ambush, and she felt foolish that she'd been so quick to panic.

"Hey," Draco said, reading her distress and elegantly leaping up onto the deck before folding her into his arms, resting his cheek against her temple.

"I'm sorry, darling," he assured her. "I didn't mean to upset you."

His skin was warm.

"Didn't you hear me calling you?" she muttered sheepishly, settling against him more fully.

"I was farther out," he explained, water dripping from his eyelashes and into her hair.

"I woke up and you weren't there…" she trailed off.

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "I just fancied a swim. Come join me."

He began gently tugging her towards the deck's edge, but she jerked away.

"No," she said firmly. "We need to get going."

"Cal—"

"Our friends need us, Drake," she said in a stern voice. "We're not abandoning them."

She turned back to the bedroom , but Draco was able to deftly slide in front of her, and he grabbed her shoulders.

"No one said anything about abandonment, but the Ministry's already fallen; we're can't undo that fact by rushing back to London this second. Besides, that's exactly what my father is expecting us to do, and he's going to be waiting to spring the trap. And think about it: if he's busy looking for us, it will take some of the pressure off the others."

"It doesn't matter!" she demanded. "We need to regroup and starting forming a plan."

"And we will," he assured her. "But I think you and I've earned a small reprieve."

She bit her lip. She couldn't deny the temptation. However, she brushed off his touch as he reached for her.

"Ginny and Blaise—" she began defiantly, but he cut her off.

"—know we're here. In fact, this was Ginny's idea."

He grabbed her by the wrist as she tried to retreat again.

"Cal," he breathed, voice uncharacteristically devoid of its usual authority. "Please. I just got you back after six of the darkest years of my life. Can't I have a week or two to enjoy you before the madness starts again?"

"We can't afford it," she reasoned softly, and he shook his head.

"You're wrong," he said, voice growing less patient and more desperate. "If anything, we can't afford not to do it. We have no idea when we'll get another chance like this." His eyes grew sad as his voice descended into a pleading whisper. "In fact, we might never."

"Don't say that," she demanded. "Don't even think it."

She tried a third time to brush him off but he cut her off and caged her to the doorframe.

"If we're going to survive this war, we need to take joy where we can get it. It's the only way."

"Drake," she protested weakly, but he silenced her with a kiss.

"One week," he said, forehead pressed to her. "That's all I ask."

"Three days," she countered, and he clenched his jaw as his forehead wrinkled. Finally, though he nodded.

"Three days," he agreed. "But no strategy talk, no battle plans, and no fretting. If I only get 72 hours, I expect them to count."

He put a finger gently under her chin so she was forced to look at him.

"Agreed?" he said, sounding more his authoritative self.

"Yes," she promised, leaning in to kiss him.

"Good girl," he breathed, making her smile. "Now come take a swim with me. The water feels amazing."

"I need to change into my suit," she protested as he easily urged her towards the water's edge.

"No you don't," he countered huskily. "Just swim in this. Or better yet," he said, reaching around to palm her arse."Let's get you naked."

She laughed. It had been over half a decade since they'd been able to flirt this freely. It felt incredible.

"You first," she purred, pressing into him.

"Challenged accepted," he said, grinding against him as he reached around to unclasp a bra.

He hands fell to the button of his swim trousers. She undid them and slipped her hand in to stroke his length.

"Easy, darling," he growled. "Or I'm going fuck you on this deck."

"You're right," she said, retracting her hand and smirking sinfully. "Let's cool you off."

"Lefevre," he warned, don't you dare—"

It was too late; she gave her chest a hardy shove,and he toppled ungracefully backwards into the water.

She laughed as he emerged sputtering, stripping off her knickers and evading his attempt to tug her in as well by diving gracefully off the edge. It was pleasantly warm and impossibly clear, and it felt good.

Her generous leap had given her a decent head-start, but Draco had longer legs and a greater wingspan, and he caught up to her easily.

"You're gonna pay for that," he warned as they squared off.

"Oh yeah?" she challenged playfully, splashing him.

"Yes," he promised, grabbing her around the waist. "Come here."

She acquiesced to his touch, wrapping her legs around his waist as he kissed her.

The smile on his face slowly faded as they gazed at each other, and she felt a flush creeping up her cheeks.

"What?" she asked softly. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Even now she couldn't keep out the fear that he'd see her damage and pull away.

"You're so beautiful," he breathed.

"Oh," she said a bit sheepishly. "I thought it was something serious."

"It is," he clarified. "You're so perfect, I almost can't stand it. I don't think you'll ever even know how honoured I am that you chose me."

"I know," she assured him. "And you're pretty beautiful yourself. Personality isn't terrible, either. A solid six out of ten, I'd say."

At this he laughed heartily, readjusting his grip on her.

"Is that all I am to you?" he asked saucily. "A pretty face?"

"A pretty face," she agreed. "And a _beautiful pen_ —"

"Leolin Marie-Therese!" he laughed. "Do you kiss your mother with that fucking mouth?"

"I do lots of things with it," she replied. "Should I show you?"

"You're killing me woman," he groaned good-naturedly as she ground against him slightly.

"Has it sunk in yet?" she asked, readjusting her position.

"What's that?" he replied.

"We get to see each other everyday," she said, rubbing her nose to his. "Wake up together, fall asleep together, shag whenever we want."

"No," he admitted more earnestly, leaning up to kiss her. "I'm still afraid this is all a dream, and any second I'll wake up."

In response, she nipped at his lower lip, and he yelped in pain and surprise, though it quickly faded into a laugh.

"What was that for?" he demanded, smirking as she nuzzled his nose again.

"So you know you're not dreaming," she explained.

He smiled wryly.

"I love you," he said. "You impossible thing."

"Good, because I'm afraid you're stuck with me," she said, scratching the nape of his neck affectionately with her long nails.

"No more than you are with me," he replied, humming contentedly at the sensation.

"Forever," she agreed. "For real this time."

"Forever," he promised. "In this life, or the next."

She nodded, not quite about to acknowledge his words by repeating them. After everything they'd suffered together, the idea of being permanently separated was unbearable.

"So," he said," breaking her reverie by readjusting his grip underneath her arse. "You were saying something about your mouth and all the things it can do? I'd like to revisit that..."

She smiled as he walked them backwards through the shallow water towards the deck.

"If my throat wasn't sore, I'd sing you an aria or something."

He laughed, but it faded midway into a groan as she swirled her hips.

"Leolin, I love you," he practically panted. "But even I couldn't listen to that."

She laughed because it was true; she had a fairly horrendous singing voice. Thinking of Gen and her angelic one, she suddenly felt a little pained. However, she had precious time to contemplate it, because Draco had spun them, and he was urging her back up onto the deck. When she settled comfortably atop it, he tugged her hips forward and began worshipping her with his tongue.

"Gods," she whined. "I'm already close."

"Beg me for it and I'll give it to you," he breathed, pausing momentarily.

"Draco," she begged, but he laughed.

"Is that the best you can do? Pathetic."

"Drake," she repeated. "Don't stop."

"Don't stop what?" he goaded, laving her once before pausing again.

"Fuck me with that talented tongue," she panted.

"Yes _ma'am_ ," he said mirthfully, pulling her undone in two more strokes.

She collapsed onto her back, feet stilling dangling in the water and he leapt up gracefully and settled between her splayed thighs.

"Shall we move to a more comfortable location?" he teased, tugging at a rosy nipple with his teeth.

"Yes," she breathed. "But quickly. I need you inside of me."

He obliged, and mere minutes later they lay in a sweaty, satisfied nest of blankets and limbs.

"Sunk in yet?" she asked, heart still pounding from the exertion.

He chuckled.

"I will likely _never_ get used to how good you feel."

"No one likes a kiss-arse," she laughed, rolling sideways to press to his side.

The depth of his laugh vibrated pleasantly through her cheek.

"You certainly did last night," he said smugly.

She laughed now, too.

"Draco!"

"I assure you I'm not exaggerating," he replied. "I wish we could switch bodies and I could show you."

"Kinky," she laughed.

She found her eyelids growing heavy again. She supposed four hours of sleep followed by vigorous sex hadn't been enough to sate her exhaustion.

Rodames padded into the room, and seeing their contented cuccoon, he leapt onto the bed and settled on the edge. Leolin reached a lazy foot out to pet him even as she she began to drift off again. She heard Draco's breathing even out as the words of a poem whose name she'd long forgotten served as silent lullaby.

 _You can cut all the flowers, but you cannot keep Spring from coming_

* * *

They slept nearly all day, and by the time she woke, it was it find the sun was dusking the horizon.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," Draco said, emerging from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist.

She smiled lazily, sitting up.

"I'm surprised you know who or what that is," she laughed.

"Oh, I have no idea," he laughed. "But it seemed fitting."

"Indeed," she said, running a hand through her hair. "What time is it?"

"Around dinnertime, I'd say. Get up and jump in the shower. I'm bloody starving."

She realised as he said it that she was, too. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd eaten.

"I have the perfect spot" he said, tugging the towel off to dry his hair.

She bit her lip.

"Is that safe?" she asked.

"There isn't a Magical town within a hundred miles of this island," he assured her. "So unless Adrian suddenly has enough boots on the ground to search every square inch of the globe, we'll be fine."

She tucked her knees protectively to her chest, and he sank back down on the bed.

"You know if I thought there was even a chance I'd be putting you in harm's way, I wouldn't do it. Do you trust me?"

"Of course," she murmured. "I just—"

"No," he said, tucking some hair behind her ear "None of that. We had a deal."

She nodded.

"You're right."

He smiled wryly.

"Always am, remember? Now c'mon, get showered. I know I said I only ever wanted to dine on you, but a nice filet feels like a pretty good second place option."

She laughed, rising from the bed. As she did, Rodames awoke, and he dutifully padded after her and into the bathroom, settling back onto the slate floor as she turned on the taps. She sighed as the water washed over her, humming contentedly. When she finally emerged, she found a dress hanging on the back of the bathroom door. It was red and slinky—everything that made Draco's knees week—and she smiled. No one could ever accuse Draco of being a man who didn't know what he wanted, or one who wasn't willing to give up everything to get it.

She slipped into the dress and glanced into the mirror, vainly fluffing her hair as turned her head from side to side to admire herself. The light—or perhaps the bright shade of her dress—seemed to amplify the redness in her neck, she could already see finger-shaped bruises forming. They were still faint, but she was sure they would be violet by the morning.

She bit her lip and flushed, leaning back at once and arranging her hair to minimize their appearance. That wasn't something she wanted to deal with at the moment, either physically or emotionally.

"C'mon!" Draco called from the bedroom. "I'm about to eat the dog!"

She laughed, emerging and trying to leave what she'd seen back in the washroom. She didn't intend to waste a perfectly good evening fretting about Adrian. He couldn't touch her here. Draco was standing with his back to her, but he turned at hearing the door click open.

"Finally," he said in mock exasperation, though his tone faded to wonder as he drank her in more fully. "Though, as always, well worth the wait."

"Don't be obsequious," she laughed.

"Me?" he said, looping an arm around her waist to pull her against him. "Never. Are you ready?"

She wiggled tighter against him.

"For dinner, or..."

"Dinner, you salacious wench!" he said, smirking. "Honestly, have you no sense of propriety?"

She laughed.

"Very little, since I met you."

The smirk widened.

"I don't know whether I should be flattered or insulted," he murmured,leaning down to kiss her.

"Dealer's choice," she breathed against his lips, sending a deep chuckle rumbling through his chest.

"Let's get out of here before I change my mind," he laughed.

She nodded and squeezed her eyes shut, bending into his as she felt the inevitable squeeze of apparation. When she opened them again, it was to find they'd arrived in a narrow stone alleyway just a few feet off out a small plaza. He looped a casual arm around her before consulting his watch.

"I'm not keeping you from anything, am I?" she joked, and he smiled and showed her the face, which had been enchanted to show a small map of old town Alcúdia in on the Northern end of the island.

"This way," he prompted, leading her down the widening cobblestones to a small bistro. He ushered her through the threshold of the cozy space, at which point a young server ushered them to a secluded patio with a table already set for two. There was a bottle of wine already waiting.

Leolin smiled at him as he genteelly pulled her chair out of her before settling across from her.

"Wine?" Draco offered congenially, already pouring her a healthy glass.

"Leolin," she replied glibly in response. "Nice to meet you."

He laughed, eyes and teeth glittering.

"Enchanted." He raised his glass to her. "Salud, my angel."

"And confusion—" she began, but her cut her off.

"Ah, ah," he warned playfully. "None of that, remember?"

"How about this, then?" she offered, leaning in. "To moderation in all things—except in love."

"And drinking," he offered, still eying her appreciatively.

"Of course," she laughed, touching her glass to his. "That was implied."

"And to us," he replied. "May the best of our todays be the worst of our tomorrows."

"Here, here," she breathed, tears shining in her eyes. "I love you, Draco Malfoy."

"And I you," he promised.

She leaned across the table, threading a hand into his hair to give him a sensuous kiss. When she'd settled back in her seat, they both took a drink.

"What do you think?" she asked, taking another.

He swirled the garnet liquid in his glass.

"Plum," he said finally. "And berries. But then also tobacco and leather. Tempranillo, I think. From Binissalem."

"You got all that from a taste?" she demanded.

He laughed.

"Of course not. I had this bottle picked out ahead of time. It's supposed to be amazing with Catalan cod."

"A red with fish?" she questioned.

"It's served with raisins and pine nuts," he explained knowleably. "Don't worry; I cleared it with the sommelier beforehand."

"Always five steps ahead," she said appreciatively.

"Endeavour to be," he said, taking another sip as the waiter brought hearty, fresh-baked bread with a sweet, vingaery dipping sauce.

She reached across the table to stroke his cheek. He hadn't shaved since the previous morning, and his velvety skin was lightly textured with stubble. In all the many years she'd known him, she'd never seen him with more than a few days growth. He was, rather predictably, distainful of facial hair. She realised with a smile that she now had a lifetime to catch him at it.

"So," she began after a moment. "What should we talk about, since our usual doom and gloom is off limits."

He chuckled.

"I have something," he said earnestly, smiling at her.

"I'm all ears," she offered.

"How about children?" he ventured, keenly studying her reaction.

Immediately her stomach dropped, and she reflexively attempted to tug her hand from beneath his. However, he held it there instead.

"Drake—" she began, but he shook his head.

"Please," he said softly. "Don't shut me out. Let's discuss this."

"There's nothing to discuss," she said somewhat flatly. "I'm barren."

"You're sure?" he probed gently.

She looked down as her cheeks floodly with dark shame. She found she couldn't meet his eye. She nodded sheepishly instead.

"You've been to see the healer?"

Again, she gave a wordless nod.

"Langdon Blackburn; I trust him."

"And what did he tell you, exactly?"

She shook her head, surprised to feel a slight wetness on her cheeks.

"Don't cry," he begged, watching her keenly.

"How can I not?" she asked in a soft, broken voice. "When I'm sitting here keeping you from the thing you want most in this world?"

"You're not," he assured her emphatically. "Not unless..." he trailed off, and she watched a hideous sadness welling in his eyes.

She couldn't have previously imagined there was anything more painful that Lucius and Adrian they could discuss.

"Unless I what?"

"Are you—" he began again, seeming almost nervous now. "Do you still want them?"

She considered this, and him. It wasn't a question she'd let herself fully answer since the attack, mostly because of its painful implications to Draco and the gag. But now, sitting a mere arm's length from him, she finally let herself.

"Yes," she whispered earnestly, swiping at a tear. "Of course I do."

Relief washed over his face, and he smiled, reaching over to squeeze her hand.

"Then the rest is just logistics. We have options."

"I don't know if—" she paused, still feeling wildly uncomfortable. "Langdon said my egg count is very low. He never mentioned harvesting them, so I assume that means—"

In truth, he'd done just the opposite. She thought about the pills he'd given her, and suddenly she was relieved she'd never taken them. Still, she couldn't quite bring herself to tell Draco about them, either.

"Let's not assume anything yet," Draco offered, breaking her reverie. "We'll make an appointment with him as soon as we get back. At this point, knowledge is only power, no matter what it might yield."

"What if surrogacy isn't an option?"

"Then we'll adopt," he said calmly, and she could tell her meant it.

"Drake," she began, sighing. "Is this really a good time to be talking about this?"

"What do you mean?" he demanded, tone sharper than she was sure he'd meant it to be.

"I mean, is now really a good time to be thinking about having a baby? I don't know if you've notice, but there's a war on."

"All the more reason," he said. "And we'd be in good company. Gin's due in a few months, Grace's just had Graham, and Granger is no doubt preparing to shoot a Weasley spawn out of her baby-making cannon—"

"That horrifying and grossly inaccurate metaphor aside," she interrupted firmly. "Our situation is different and you know it. It was one thing for Ginny to be pregnant right now. You and me deciding to adopt is another. There's not going to be any happy accidents for us; we're gong to have to make a conscious decision that extends beyond just us two, and in that sense, the timing could _not_ be worse."

"I don't care," he said stubbornly.

"Well you should," she shot back. "This is serious."

"And so am I! Leolin," he took her hand. "There is no such thing as an ideal time to have a baby. Besides, we have no idea what the future holds. If you're not ready to be a mum then fine, we'll wait. But if you're just waiting for things to go back to 'normal', I'm begging you to reconsider."

The truth in what he was saying struck her in the chest, making her throat constrict.

"I know you're scared. So am I. But if being away from you taught me anything, it's that we have to seize the moments we have. They're sacred, and we have no guarantee on how many we'll get."

"Don't say that," she demanded.

"It's the truth."

"You're not going to die for another hundred years," she said firmly. "I won't let you. Even if I have to march back to Tartarus and get those sodding coins back from Charon."

He smiled faintly.

"Not sure that deal's still on the table, my angel."

"Don't be glib," she sneered.

"I'm not," he assured her. "But we're not going to gamble with our future. It's too precious."

The conversation was subsumed by an artic silence as the insinuation swirled around them like a blustery wind. The truth of their predicament continued to lurk below the surface, waiting for a moment to strike.

It was Leolin who ultimately broke the silence.

"Okay," she said quietly.

"Okay?" he echoed, confused and still slightly defensive.

"Okay," she said more firmly. "Let's see Langdon and find out what can be done."

"I don't want to push you," he said, the hope in his eyes carefully tamped down by a sincere expression of concern. "If you're truly not ready—"

"I'm not," she admitted. "I probably won't be ready until we're actually parents. But you're right; now isn't the time for waiting or regrets."

The hope sprang more freely into his features, and his eye and teeth both glittered as he touched her cheek.

"Come again?" he said mirthfully, still stroking her cheek. "I'm right? I must not be hearing you correctly."

"Shut up," she laughed, playfully slapping his hand away.

"Because it certainly _sounded_ like you said that I was right!"

She laughed, surprised at how light she felt.

"Don't get used to it," she warned, and he raised his eyebrows, taking another sip of wine.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he assured her.

They lapsed into comfortable silence after that, and Leolin studied Draco, Finally, she spoke again, though much of the mirth had bled from her tone.

"I'm sorry," she said in a soft voice.

He frowned in confusion.

"For what?"

"Gen," she said. "And the baby. I know that couldn't have been easy for you."

He took a large swallow wine to hide a grimace.

"We don't have to talk about this. No business, remember?"

"This isn't business," she said gently. "I never want you to feel like you have to keep things from me. Any burden you have is ours to share."

He considered this proposal, clenched and unclenching his jaw several times. Finally, he acquiesced by sighing.

"Mostly I feel—" he began, running and elegant index finger around the rim of his glass. "Relieved. The baby was this piece of the puzzle that felt impossible to reconcile, and the idea of choosing between you and it was tearing me apart."

"I know," she said sympathetically.

"But I also feel violated," he grit out, looking down into his glass and trying to control his expression. "It's hard to accept that Gen would do that to me. And not just me, but to Brankovitch, and the cause we said we both believed in..." He trailed off, still looking down. "Which also makes me feel guilty," he finally admitted in a quiet voice. "Because I allowed it to go on for far too long, and in doing so I put Brank and Sharpe and you in danger by ignoring my instincts. Deep down, I knew Gen was capable of doing something like this."

"You chose to see the good in her," Leolin reassured him, grabbing his wrist. "There's no shame in that, Drake."

"It's not just that," he admitted. "I—I was so terrible unfair to her. I knew the minute I saw you coming down the stairs at the Manor that things with her would never be enough for me anymore, but I still strung her along for over a year out of jealousy and pride. If I'd told her the truth that night, we wouldn't be in this situation."

"You don't know that," Leolin urged, grabbing his chine. "And what she did—that isn't on you."

"How can you say that?" he croaked.

She frowned in sympathy.

"Because it's true. No one blames you for her treachery; least of all, me."

"You should. I created her," he insisted quietly. "I pushed her to the breaking point."

"No," she insisted. "And you beating yourself up for it doesn't do anyone any good. Please, forgive yourself. For my sake, if not your own."

He nodded, clenching his jaw. Despite his silent gesture of acceptance, she knew this was unlikely the last she'd hear of it. Still, she could tell he was on the verge of retreating into some tragic pit of self-loathing, and she felt a renewed determination to save him from further pain.

"Let's just focus on the future," she urged. "On kids of our own."

He gave a crooked smile.

"What do you suppose they'll be like?" he asked.

"Troublesome, if they're anything like their father."

"Me?" he laughed quietly, mood lightening. "What about their mother, international art thief extraordinaire?"

"Ex-art thief," she corrected.

"And devious Serpent Queen," he said, smirking. "A woman unafraid to practice quidditch in lingerie or make a person sick at the sound of their own voice. I'm still not completely over that, by the way. Ask my therapist."

"Well you gave me a love potion!" she pointed out.

"Yeah," he laughed. "That I got out of a spellbook! Not that I invented!"

She smiled in response to his renewed joviality.

"So are kids are gonna be devious," she conceded. "So what? There are worse things to be, like stupid."

"Or Hufflepuffs," Draco added, smirking arrogantly.

"Or that," she admitted. "But I wouldn't worry to much on that score. The Slytherin throne is their birthright."

"It makes my heart sing to hear you finally admit that," he said, smirking widening to a glittering beam.

She studied his flawless bone structure as he continued to smile, imagining what it would look like on a younger face, or a female one.

"If I can't—" she blurted. "I think we should consider an egg donor."

"What?" he asked, bewildered.

"Just because I can't conceive a child doesn't mean you shouldn't."

"Does it not?" he asked quietly, bowing his head.

Again, Leolin was having trouble reading his storm expression; she supposed she was somewhat out of practice.

"What do you mean?" she probed gently.

"Maybe this is fate's way of extinguishing a tainted bloodline. I doubt the world really needs more Malfoys, In fact, it's probably better off with less of us."

"That's not true," she assured him. "Besides..." she trailed off, biting her lip.

"What?" he demanded, growing increasingly distraught.

"You're no longer Lucius's sole heir. If Fate was really trying to end his bloodline, it didn't try very hard."

"Lucia," Draco breathed, running a distressed hand through his hair as she brow screwed up in pain. "I completely forgot about her and Regine. You don't think my father—"

Leolin shook her head.

"Lucius could easily have prevented Regine from getting pregnant, or forced her to terminate, but he didn't. That means he _wanted_ her to have this baby. It also means she's safe for now."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" he pleaded in a hollow voice. "What he has planned could be worse than death."

"Hey," Leolin interrupted. "I'm sorry I brought it up. Let's not talk about this tonight."

"But you're right," he said. "He had Lucia for a reason, and if he does anything to her, that's on me."

"No," Leolin insisted. "It's not."

"Yes, it is. What he really wants is me, and while I was playing cat and mouse with him, he found another way to get what he wanted."

"Drake," Leolin sighed. "You're not Atlas; the whole world isn't yours to bear alone. And if you honestly think you could have predicted your father was going to coerce the Lord of the Dead to make him a demi-god, then you're mad. As for stopping him," she paused. "We all know whose fault that really was. I'm the one who lost the coins to Adrian. If there's anyone you should be blaming for this mess, it's me."

"I could never blame you," he said earnestly.

"Then stop blaming yourself." She implored. "Because we're one now. That's what it means to love someone, darling. You're never alone."

He bowed his head, nodding. The conversation had grown more grave than she was sure either of them had intended, but Leolin found it oddly cathartic. The pain of it, the rawness, seemed to assure her that it was real, and she hadn't stumbled into another daydream that she would soon wake up from. Besides, she'd meant what she said; after five years of bears her burdens—her failures and her fears—alone, it was comforting to have someone by her side again.

"I love you," she whispered, touching his cheek and drawing him from a dark reverie. "I always have, and I always will."

"I never meant to drag you into any of this," he assured her. "Please know that."

"I do," she agreed. "But you were right all those years ago. I was always going to be my mother's daughter, and as such I was always going to have a target on my back. Besides, I would trade you for anything."

"You honour me," he said in a genteel voice. "And thank you. I—I needed to hear you say that."

"It's easy to say," she assured him. "Because it's true. I love you, you impossible creature."

He gave his second dazzling smile of the evening.

"Now," she said definitively. "Let's talk about something else."

"Agreed. Let's talk about this," Draco said, taking her hand and dragging it between them to the centre of the table. "I think it's about time I made an honest woman out of you; when are we getting married?"

"Soon," she affirmed simply.

"Okay," he laughed. "Somehow not _quite_ the enthusiastic response I was looking for."

She laughed somewhat sheepishly.

"I'm sorry. Of course I'm excited. I just—"

She bit her lip, blushing a little.

"What?" he prompted, casually snapping his fingers and nodding at a waiter as he caught the man's eye.

"I really want my parents to be there," she confessed. "I know that's sort of fanciful, given everything that's going on, what it wouldn't feel right without the four of them there."

"I understand completely," he affirmed, taking her hand. "But easily said than done, my love."

"I know," she said. "It's practically impossible."

"I suppose you and I could arrange to go to them instead," he offered. "But that means Ginny and Blaise won't be there."

"I know," she said somewhat dolefully. "I thought of that, too."

"We'll figure something out," he assured her. "I like to think I still have a few tricks up my sleeve."

"Oh yeah?" she teased. "Like what?"

"A true magician never reveals his secrets," he said in self-satisfaction, nodding a wordless thanks as their server brought a second bottle of the Tempranillo and set it on the table. "Now, let's talk about what you're going to wear."

She laughed bemusedly.

"A white gown of some kind, I'd imagine."

He waved his dismissively.

"Oh I don't care about that part," he explained, eyes glittering with laughter. "I was talking about what you're planning to have on _underneath_."

She shrugged noncommitally, giving him a sinful smirk

"Depends on the dress. Maybe nothing."

"That's my favourite outfit you own," he said salaciously.

"Then why do I bother spending thousands of galleons of years on clothes?" she teased.

He raised his eyebrows.

"A question I've asking myself for ten years," he replied.

"Charming, Malfoy, as always."

He gave a crooked smile.

"Don't suppose there's any point in trying to convince you to take my last name at this point, is there?"

She shrugged.

"You could always take mine instead," she pointed out casually.

In lieu of immediately responding, he took a sip of wine.

"That's true," he said. "I could."

She hadn't expected that, and it made her laugh.

"You would never," she said, slapping his arm playfully.

"I would," he countered. "If you asked me to."

"Draco Lefevre," Leolin tried out. "It _is_ rather dashing."

"So are you asking me?" he persisted.

"No," she said simply, taking a sip as well.

"Why not?" he pressed. "Because you don't think I'll do it?"

"Well, no, I suppose I don't."

"Then let's getting married tonight, and I'll prove it to you."

"It's not just that I don't think you would," she admitted. "So much as I don't think you should."

"Alright," he said, picking up his glass again. "Now I'm really curious. Go on,then: why's that?"

She set down her own glass and gave him a meaningful look.

"People are going to be looking to you for courage and guidance," she said at last. "And you have to be ready to show them that you're not ashamed of who you are, and that you're ready to face your past and to defeat it."

"Well said," he said after a moment of consideration, eying her appreciatively.

"And for the record," she continued, not wanting to devolve into seriousness again. "I _don't_ think you would have gone through with it. The first comment from Z and you would have freaked out and caved."

"You're wrong," he countered lightly. "But as you so elegantly pointed out, it's not in the interest of our cause to try and prove it to you."

She narrowed her eyes, still smiling.

"How very convenient for you."

"If you say so," he replied smugly, looking every bit the arrogant sixteen year old boy she'd first met. "But let's get back to the question at hand, shall we?

"Which was?" she asked lightly. "I've completely forgotten."

"When we get married, are you going to change your last name to Malfoy?"

"Now it sort of feels like you're asking me," she pointed out.

"I suppose I am," he admitted after a beat.

"There was a time you would have insisted upon it."

"I've learned a lot since then. Namely, no one has the authority to tell you what to do, least of all, me."

She smiled. He really had matured a tremendous amount in the time she'd been away. She really had to remember to thank her mother the next time she saw her.

"Prudent," she replied simply.

"But I would be lying if I told you it wouldn't make me happy. I know it's a heavy name to bear, but it would be easier with you. You don't have to decide right away, obviously, but I—"

"I've already decided," she interrupted. "In fact, I made up my mind the day I agreed to marry you. Drake, I love you, bad parts as much as good ones. If you're a Malfoy, so am I."

"Why are you so perfect?" he breathed, smiling.

"I'm glad you think so," she said, watching as the waiter set a beautifully-appointed cod down in front of her. It looked and smelled delicious. "I'll be sure to remind you that you said that the next time we fight."

"Us, fight?" Draco say, eying his own plate with enthusiasm before glancing up to smile at her. "Never."

She laughed.

"I'll drink to that," she said, raising her glass to touch his. "Now, _mangiamo_."

* * *

Several hours—and another bottle of wine—later, they strolled casually through the centre of Medieval Alúcidia. Leolin held her heels in one hand as she clutched Draco's arm with the other, for balance as much as comfort.

"That was amazing," she laughed somewhat drunkenly. "You are amazing."

"So are you," he laughed as she swayed. "Should we get you back to the bungalow now?"

"No!" she said. "It's so beautiful here. Let's keep walking for a bit."

"Are you just saying that because you're afraid you'll jeff if you have to side-along?"

"No!" she blustered, swaying a little. "Okay, maybe."

He laughed, but the merriment quickly blew from his face as he looked up to find a man watching them. Instinctively he drew his wand and pointed it at the man.

"Who are you?" he snarled. "What do you want?"

The man eyed the wand with bewilderment and fear.

"He's a muggle," Leolin said, forcing Draco's wand arm down. "And he works at the restaurant."

"Señorita Lefevre?"

"Yes," she said firmly, and she could feel her own wand hand twitching as well. "¿Qué necesitas?" she demanded. "Dime."

He extended a glowing orb, lip trembling.

"What is it?" she demanded. "Where did you get this?"

He should his head in miscomprehension and fear.

"¿De dónde sacaste eso?" she demanded, drawing her wand now, too. "Tell me."

"Un—un buhó."

"A what?" she demanded, he shook his head. "¿Un qué?"

"Buhó," he repeated. "Buhó."

"What is that?" he snapped.

"I'm not sure," Leolin said, gripping her wand tighter.

"Whoo, whoo," the man said helplessly, imitating a bird call.

"An owl," Leolin said to Draco. "It has to be from Ginny. She's the only one who knows where we are."

She extended her hand, and the orb flew into her outstretched palm. The man screeched in surprise, and Leolin's eyebrows knit together."

"Lo siento," she told him, raising her wand. He flinched and covered his eyes even as her next spell washed over him. " _Obliviate."_

She lowered her wand as he blinked at her in confusion.

"¡Vete!" she told him firmly. "Now."

He nodded numbly, turning on his head and slumping back from the street he'd first appeared from.

"Don't open that," Draco said. "We have no idea—"

Leolin interrupted him by throwing the orb as hard as she could into the cobblestones. It shattered magnifiscently on impact, and Draco tugged her away several feet as the light that had been bottled inside rocketed out. It quick took the form of a horse and cantered around the abandoning piazza before approaching them again.

"That's Ginny's patronus," Leolin breathed.

Finally, it spoke.

"I need you," Ginny's voice echoed, sounding tearful. "We lost the Battle of Hogwarts, and my brother Fred was still inside when the castle fell."

Draco and Leolin exchanged a solemn glance. It was funny how sobering bad news could be; Leolin barely felt drunk at all anymore.

"The funeral is tomorrow," Ginny continued. "Please, I need...you...there..."

The patronus faded into a wisp of smoke, and Leolin felt her mouth go dry. She looked at Draco. He'd been right; they had to savour every moment of joy. Alright they were growing more scarce.

"We'll leave at first light tomorrow," he promised, as she came numbly to his side pressed her face to his chest.

She felt the bubble they'd tried to create silently shatter around them, and she nodded.

"Then let's make tonight count."

* * *

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	2. Chapter 2: Songs of the Fallen

**Chapter Two: Songs of the Fallen**

The following morning, Leolin stood in front of her bedroom mirror in her flat in Belgravia, staring blankly at her fractured reflection. Someone had hurled a curse at the glass, and cracks spidered out from the point of impact. She reached forward to trace the crack with her finger, and Draco watched her keenly but said nothing. Leolin had barely spoken a word since they'd woken up, and he seemed to sense he ought not to push her. Or maybe he just didn't have the stomach to, knowing what awaited them in Ottery St. Catchpole.

"Lai?" he said finally, placing his hands gently on her shoulders. "Collect what you need and let's get going. Adrian could still be keeping tabs on this place."

Leolin glanced at Rodames, who stood with ears pricked, growling quietly to himself. He'd yet to relax since they'd arrived, and on top of everything else, it was setting Leolin's teeth on edge. Agitated, she shrugged out of Draco's touch to slouch over and sit on the bed, which was littered with feathers from the massacred pillows. They'd only just returned from Balearic Islands, but the hour had already grown late; they were due at The Burrow by the stroke of noon, and the clock on the nightstand, which continued to tick even after having been smashed, read eleven forty-five. Even still, Leolin couldn't bring herself to get moving. Seeing the destruction—walking amongst it like they were—seemed to bring to bear what they now faced.

"Lai," he said in an uncharacteristically gentle tone as he knelt at her feet. "What's going on with you? Talk to me."

"Do you seriously not know?" she snapped.

"I understand this hurts," Draco agreed. "But what can we do but face it?"

"If I'm being honest,"she said venomously. "This newfound 'zen' you've got going on is less than flattering."

"Excuse me?" he said, eyes hardening. Draco'd never been one to back down from a fight. Maybe she was more of an instigator than she'd realised.

"Do you even care that Fred's died?" she burst instead, striding off several paces.

"How can you ask me that?" He demanded. "You know I do."

"Then stop acting like a zombie!" she snarled.

He clenched his jaw in extreme agitation, eyes glittering coldly. "I don't have to keen and tear at my hair to prove to you I'm grieving," he snapped in a quiet voice, grabbing her by the wrist to get her attention.

She gave a huff of agitation herself, emotions getting the better of her as she wrenched from his grip. She'd promised herself she wouldn't cry today, that she'd be strong for Ginny, but seeing her flat so decimated had ignited a kindling of fear she hadn't released she'd been harboring. She turned her back to him, embarassed by her tears and feeling guilty for how she'd treated him.

"Hey," he demanded, grabbing her arm a touch roughly again. It only served to make her more teary, and his expression softened. "Hey," he repeated, touching her cheek "Don't push me away. What's going on with you? Please, whatever it is, just tell me."

"I just—" she began pathetically, giving a vague gesture around the room before sitting on the bed again. "We failed them, Drake. Fred and McGonagall and everyone at Hogwarts. How is it that Adrian _always_ seems to have the winning hand?" Leolin whispered finally. "And how did get in here? How did he bypass my wards?"

Draco considered before coming to sit next to her, placing a hand on her knee.

"Who knows," he admitted. "Let's just be grateful you weren't here when they did. It's just stuff, Cal," he murmured, tucking some hair behind her ear. "Nothing we can't replace."

Leolin looked down at the cartographer's glass Sweeney'd given her, which had been clenched tightly in her left fist. It, too, had been smashed, and only the gold frame, though savagely bent, remained. They must have found it when they'd ransacked her desk.

"What is it?" Draco said after a beat or two of silence, gesturing to the oculus with his silver eyes.

"A gift," she said softly. "From Swish."

He considered this thoughtfully.

"May I?" he said finally, extending his hand.

She hesitated before placing it carefully in his outstretched palm. He drew his Leonardian wand, flourishing it gracefully. The frame rose from his hand, rotating on its end as if encased in a gentle cyclone of light. As it spun, the dents in the frame righted themselves, and there was a soft twinkling as what looked like moats of glittering dust eventually knitted together to reform the magnifying glass. Finally the spinning slowed, and the oculus descended softly into Leolin's cupped palm.

"Thank you," she breathed, leaning into Draco. He strung an arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple.

"There's nothing so broken that it can't yet be fixed," he assured her, stroking her dark hair. "I promise."

She nodded, still feeling saturnine even as she vanished the glass protectively into her cache.

"Go find something to wear," he prompted softly. "We need to get going to The Burrow. Ten minutes, alright?"

Again, she nodded, pushing off from the ruined bed and padding into the closet, kicking off the worn boots she'd been wearing and letting the door swing shut behind her.

Much like Draco and Gen's flat, all of her undergarments had been dumped out and strewn across the floor, and as she surveyed the mess, she numbly realised that some of the more provocative pieces even seemed to be missing. Interspersed among the bits of silk and lace were rose petals from the Madoc Estate.

Gingerly, she knelt to touch one, and it was still fresh and velvety under her fingertips. Her grandmother had so loved these roses, and even in her darkest hours after Sweeney's death, seeing them had still comforted Leolin. Now the only comfort she could find in them was the hollow knowledge that her grandmother had at least been spared this fresh terror. Was she, Leolin wondered, watching over them now from a place beyond pain with Fred and Sweeney and her grandfather? Leolin had to believe so, if only to keep the pain of the alternative from consuming her. Finally, she straightened, letting the petals flutter back to the floor as she glanced at the floor length mirror. It hadn't been broken like the other, but someone had scrawled an untidy message across its face with dark red lipstick.

 _Remember, I'm always watching_.

She sneered, drawing her wand and shattering the glass and its sinister promise. Adrian had taken enough; he didn't get to take today.

"Leolin?" Draco called from the other room. "Everything okay in there?"

"Fine," she called back, cleaning up the glass with a flick of her wrist. "I'll be out in a minute."

She eased a long-sleeved black sheath off the hanger, slipping it on and easing into spindly leather boots. Gingerly, she touched her neck, wincing as she did. She didn't need to see herself to know the bruises had fully blossomed overnight, and that her throat was now a brutal tapestry of violent finger marks.

Remembering the incident caused a lump in her windpipe, and she attempted to dislodge it by gruffly clearing her throat. She looked down as Draco entered, still fighting to get her expression under control. He surveyed the mess of knickers on the floor without comment.

"Almost ready?" He asked in a soft voice, stepping forward to zip her dress.

"Yes," she replied, coaxing her hair up with a practiced flick of her wrist.

"Are you sure you don't want a glamour?" He asked, laying his cheek against her temple, hands slithering around her hips to her pelvis, pulling her flush against him.

"Yes," she repeated, gently shrugging out of his touch. "I can't hide from my damage anymore; it only seems to contribute to its permanency."

He nodded, letting his hands fall to her shoulders.

"Shall we go, then?"

She nodded, throwing a camel coat over her arm before waving her wand once, causing a suitcase to spring off the shelf to attention. It was immediately swarmed by all of her clothes, shoes, and accessories. They tussled untidily for position, shoes attempting to trip pairs of trousers while sweaters throttled coats as they to muscle past.

"Oh enough," she snapped, waving her wand again. "There's enough bloody space for everyone."

At her directive, the clothes began folding themselves neatly and lying down in the case as her shoes formed an orderly line. In less than a minute the entire room was packed, and the case gave a smart snap shut not unlike a belch after a satisfying meal.

She tossed her coat over her shoulders before fetching her clutch and leather gloves. It was October now, and the weather had turned cold and wet. She turned to find Draco watching her.

"What?" she demanded mildly.

He gave a wry smile despite everything, picking up her case and looping an arm around her waist.

"You never cease to amaze, is all," he replied, readjusting his grip on her back to bring her into him for a kiss. "Ready?" he breathed as they pulled apart, resting his forehead on hers.

"No," she said shakily after a beat.

"Me either," he admitted.

"This won't be our last funeral," she pointed out in a soft, broken voice. "Today is just the beginning."

"You don't know that," he reassured her, but she could see he didn't believe what he was saying. "Come here."

Gently she folded against him, and he kissed her temple before pulling her head to his shoulder. "Either way," he breathed finally. "It has to be done. Rodames, _viens._ "

Obediently Rodames obeyed, and Draco conjured a leash and affixed it to the dog's sleek collar, before looping an arm around Leolin's waist. She gave the empty room a final look, knowing as they disappeared she'd never again be back and feeling a now-familiar ache for what was past.

It was raining in Ottery Saint Catchpole when they arrived, and Draco conjured an umbrella and let Rodames off leash to bound away as they made the short quarter-mile trudge to the Burrow. Bill had upgraded the wards to disallow apparation within their perimetres, and they were forced to make the short journey on foot instead. Leolin felt a slight chill as they passed through the invisible barrier, and as they did The Burrow sprang into view, like a violet blooming from fresh snow.

Leolin's throat constricted as they approached the mismatched monolith that formed The Burrow's main bulk, and she bit her lip to keep the feeling at bay. She couldn't keep from remembering her first trip there, when the house had burst with laughter and summer sunlight. Today it looked dreary and embattled, all four stories huddled doggedly against the rain.

She leaned into Draco and he pressed a comforting hand to her lower back as they approached the front door.

"It's alright, darling," he assured her.

He knocked on the worn oak, and as he did, the brass badger doorknocker sprang to life, giving them a hard glance.

"Speak friend," it demanded. "And answer."

"Frederick," they said in unison, and the creature faded back into inanimate metal as the door swung in.

The first face they saw was Molly, and she somewhat tearfully threw herself into Draco's arms.

"Molly," he breathed, letting go of Leolin to embrace the shorter woman. "How are you?"

Molly pulled away, swiping at fresh tears. "As good as can be expected," she said bravely. "Oh Leolin," she cooed. "Oh my days, look how beautiful and grown-up you are!" She gave a soft half-laugh, half-sob. "It seems like yesterday you were just a girl."

"It's so good to see you, Molly," Leolin said, throat tight again as embraced her. "I wish it could have been under gladder tidings."

"Me too, dear," Molly admitted, touching Leolin's cheek affectionately. "But we have to try and save our tears; Fred would want only laughter and joy. That was my Freddy: always ready to see light in the darkest places—"

She broke off into a sob.

"I'm sorry," she said after a moment. "It just comes and goes." She paused to survey them instead. "Oh, but you look so lovely together! I'm so happy that you two managed to find your way back to one another. I really am."

Leolin and Draco exchanged a warm glance.

"Thank you," Draco said. "So are we."

Molly smiled at this, squeezing his hand. Leolin could see that she was teetering on the verge on tears again, but she valiantly fought them off to keep from breaking down in front of them.

"You two ought to go and find Ginbug," she said softly. "She'll be glad to see you both, I'm sure."

"Let us know if we can help in any way," Leolin offered, and Molly gave her age-old mothering smile, though weariness immediately wore away at its edges, turning it to a soft frown.

"Oh don't concern yourselves with any of that," Molly insisted. "I have it all in hand."

"Well, see you shortly," Draco said sympathetically as she swiped at another errant tear.

"Off you pop!" she croaked in response, giving a small smile as she turned and prepared to flee back into the warm kitchen.

"C'mon, darling," Leolin said, giving Molly a warm look as she gently tugged Draco's elbow.

"Merlin," Draco breathed when Molly was gone. "She's a bloody wreck."

"It's not natural," Leolin pointed out softly. "Parents should never have to bury their children. Let's go find Ginny."

They made their way from the foyer to the den, which was mostly empty when they arrived, save for Ginny and Blaise, who sat on a pair of squashed couches tucked back towards the fire. At seeing them, Ginny sprung up.

"Leolin," Ginny croaked, pressing immediately into her friend's arms. "You're here."

"Of course I am," Leolin assured her, touching her tear-stained cheek. She was several inches taller than Ginny, and Ginny's head lay comfortably against Leolin's shoulder. "I could never be anywhere else."

Ginny nodded tightly, floating into Draco's embrace and beginning to cry as his arms encircled her.

"We're so sorry for your loss, darling," Draco breathed, and Leolin and Blaise traded a sympathetic glance as she reached over to squeeze his hand in silent greeting.

Ginny pulled back and melted to Blaise's side, tipping her head back to staunch the tears so she could fix her makeup before it ran.

"How are you?" Draco asked gingerly.

Ginny sighed.

"It's been the worst twenty four hours of my life," she admitted. "Poor Angelina's a wreck. And George—" she broke off, shaking her head as Blaise soothingly stroked her back.

"What happened?" Leolin breathed, brows synched as she sank into an armchair across from Ginny and took both her hands in her own.

Ginny clenched her jaw and looked down, still fighting down hysteria.

"After the Ministry fell, Tate Rawle showed up at Hogwarts[SC1] and starting killing Muggleborns on Lucius's orders. Fred was helping smuggle them into Aberforth's place when they got overwhelmed at the tunnel. He volunteered to stay behind to hold the Deatheaters off." She gave a trembling sigh that was pregnant with tears. "He saved 21 lives by staying behind."

"I'm so sorry," Leolin whispered, squeezing Ginny's hand.

Ginny sniffled.

"The horrid thing about time," she said. "Is that you never know how much you have."

Leolin and Draco exchanged a meaningful glance.

"You'll see him again someday," Leolin assured her quietly, willing it bitterly to be true. "And the dead never really leave us."

"I hope you're right," Ginny agreed, looking up at Leolin again before frowning with concern. "Oh Lai, your neck—"

Leolin felt a hot flush creep up her cheeks as she tugged at her collar to hide the bruises.

"Don't worry about it," Leolin said quickly. "It's nothing."

"Did Adrian do that?" Ginny pressed.

"It doesn't matter," Leolin assured her, wishing now that she'd taken Draco's advice and covered them with a glamour.

They fell into pained silence, and Leolin glanced at Draco, searching for something to say. Before she could, though, they were interrupted by the soft creaking of someone padding down the stairs.

"Oh Gin," the newcomer said, sounding relieved. "There you are."

They looked up to find Nikki, George's wife, approaching. Her skin was white as milk, made even paler by the ebony silk of her sheath and the severe bun she'd scraped her sandy hair back into.

"Were you looking for me?" Ginny said, wiping her eyes.

"The girls have just woken from a nap, and they're both crying and whining." Nikki sighed hopelessly, twisting her wedding band in latent agitation. "George is still in his room and I just need—"

"I'll go," Ginny assured her, nodding to Blaise as he helped her to stand. "Don't worry."

"Thank you," Nikki breathed. "I still need to help your mum with a few things before—" she broke off. "—And they're being such snots."

She gave a soft, humourless laugh, running a trembling hand over her head as if to ensure the bun was still secure.

"Hello, you two," she said after a beat, finally turning to Leolin and Draco and giving a weak smile.

"You alright, Nik?" Draco asked in a soft voice.

"No," Nikki admitted. "But thank you for asking."

"None of us are," Leolin offered, and Nikki nodded, seemingly calmed by this.

"I should—" Nikki began again, gesturing vaguely to the kitchen. "Thank you Gin. Just bring them down when you can. Feel free to bribe them with pumpkin juice or sweeties if you need. I can't bother with being a responsible mum on a day like this."

Ginny nodded in response, pecking Blaise gently before heading up the cramped staircase in the corner of the room that lead to the upper floors.

"Thank you," Blaise breathed when she and Nikki gone, turning back to Leolin and Draco. "For coming back. I'm sure this is the last place you want to be right now."

Draco gave a soft shrug, as the decision to leave paradise and come back had been an easy one.

"She would do the same for us," he pointed out.

Blaise nodded his silent appreciation. He and Draco had never been good at expressing their bond, but it ran deep nonetheless.

"We both would," Blaise assured him.

"What have you heard?" Draco asked after a beat, and Blaise clenched his jaw.

"Bits and snatches. None of it's good news, though."

"Has anyone heard from Kelly?" Leolin asked, ignoring Draco's veiled expression of distain.

She hadn't been able to stop imagining the blood on his lily-white cloak at the Manor. She couldn't decide if it was more painful to imagine it was his, or someone else's.

"I think Cara has," Blaise admitted. "He's under full-time now, that's all I know."

Leolin bit her lip.

"He'll be all right," Blaise said with an air of practiced indifference Leolin was sure was for Draco's benefit. "He's a tough bloke. What about your family, Lai? Have you talked to them?"

"My dad and stepmum are still in Paris. James and my mum are in Scotland, for the time being. What about Lauren?"

Blaise opened his mouth to reply, but shut it after a second as his brow furrowed with an expression of disapproval and concern directed at a figure who'd just stepped through the door. Leolin turned to watch as a young woman started towards them, meeting Blaise's gaze evenly.

She had espresso skin, dark enough to offer a sharp contrast to her peridot eyes, which sparkled with a keen intelligence. She was uncommonly tall and slender, and even without the spindly heels she wore, she was closer to six feet than five. Leolin cold tell from her graceful sway that she'd walked a runway before, and judging by the cut of her expensive couture dress, very likely a professional one. Leolin frowned softly at her approach, drinking her in. It was odd, because even though she was positive she'd never met the girl (and she was still very much a girl, despite her mature beauty) before, her face was still incredibly familiar.

"Giacomina," Blaise said sternly when the girl reached them. "What are you doing here?"

"Don't call me that," the girl bit back in a crisp Londoner's accent colored by a slight accent, likely the result of an extended period time abroad as an adult. "You know it's Jacqueline now. Hey Drake."

"Jac," Draco replied, studying her with what almost felt like familial concern. "It's good to see you. It's been a long time."

It was here that Leolin turned to Blaise for explanation, and his frown deepened.

"Lai," he said simply. "My little sister, Gia."

Leolin did her best not to gape. She knew now was hardly the appropriate time to worry about it, but she couldn't help feeling jarred. A sister? A _younger_ sister? Since when? Gia was nineteen at least; how had Leolin never heard of her until now? Fruitlessly she searched for something appropriate to say, but in the end she blurted out the first thought she'd had.

"Merlin, you look just like your mum."

Gia raised an eyebrow, looking every bit the petulant teenager Leolin suspected she still was.

"I'll try to take that as a compliment."

"What are you doing here, G?" Blaise repeated, clearly agitated at her flippant avoidance of his question.

"I came to bury Snape this morning," Gia explained. "Someone had to. Besides, after my dad died, Snape was the only parental figure I had left. In a way, he was like family to me."

Blaise clenched his jaw, looking latently pained. Leolin knew how much he loved and revered his mother, and even not knowing the history between her and Gia, she could tell whatever it was was painful for him.

"You should have stayed in Milan," he answered instead. "London's not safe."

Gia's brow knitted together in confusion.

"You haven't heard?" she asked.

"Heard what?" Blaise snapped, burying his concern under a gritty filter of contempt.

Leolin had also suspected this was something he'd picked up from Draco, and she had to admit it was a less than flattering shade on either of them.

"As soon as he heard what happened in England, Geno Sforza made a deal with Lucius. I barely managed to make it out before Malfoy's _Solarrii_ took the city."

"What?" Draco demanded.

 _Solarrii_ , Leolin thought with a chill, remembering again what Adrian had said about Lucius being the Morning Star. That must have been what the former Deatheaters were calling themselves now.

"He's not the only one," Gia continued. "Nico Borgia did the same. The Medici tried to hold Florence as best they could, but they faced aggression on both fronts, and once Rome fell, so did Florence. Now everything from the mouth of the Tiber to the base of the Dolomites is under _Solarrii_ control, and last I heard, they were already heading south towards Naples. The whole peninsula is lost."

"Merlin" Leolin breathed, blood draining from her face as she glanced at Draco. "Severina."

Gia gave her a quizzical look.

"Oh, she's long gone," she said. "She fled the city the night before last, even before her uncle opened the gates."

"Where?" Leolin pressed, feeling nauseous. "Here?"

If Severina had come back to London, she would have contacted Leolin. The fact Leolin hadn't heard from her or Xavier made her want to throw up.

"No," Gia said with mild derision. "She took all her gold and jewels and slithered into some crack into the New World to wait out the war like the snake she is."

"Tread carefully," Draco warned, glancing at Leolin again in the hopes of reassuring her. "She's our friend."

"She's a coward," Gia replied. It was here that she seemed to realise that both her brother and Draco were looking at Leolin, because she did too, tone softening slightly as she drank in Leolin's stricken expression. "I'm sorry, but it's true. Her husband stayed in Rome until the very last moment to try and protect the city, but she was already long gone. I heard she has no intention of coming back until the war was over."

Leolin's mouth had turned to ash, and her head swam as she tried to come to terms with what Gia was saying. Severina, flee the city? It didn't make any sense. It wasn't in her nature to run from a fight.

"She has children to think of," Blaise interceded, and Gia shrugged.

"So did Fred. So will you, pretty soon. It doesn't change anything."

"You weren't there," Blaise continued more harshly than Leolin knew he meant to. "Don't spread rumours you don't know are true."

"Neither were you," Gia returned in a hot tone. "Don't talk to me like I'm a child."

"You are still a child!" he replied in a similar voice. "And as always, you're putting your nose where it will get you in trouble. Or worse, killed."

Blaise clenched his jaw at her defiance, and Leolin could feel something ugly stirring between them. The last thing anyone needed on a day like this for a fight to break out. However, before either she or Draco could intercede, Blaise's floo smoked, and he flicked it open to read the message.

"Ginny needs my help," he said, snapping it shut and putting it back in his pocket. "I need to go upstairs."

"We should be going, too," Draco said, consulting his watch. "It's time."

Blaise nodded before his gaze slid back to Gia, who'd turned her head away as if he'd lost her interest.

"Gia," he said to get her attention, and she turned back, eyes still flashing. "I'm glad you're home, and safe."

At this her expression softened and she nodded.

"Mi sei mancato, fratello" she admitted, looking younger and more fragile than ever. Leolin could see now how shaken she was by what she'd seen.

He gave a soft, sad half-smile, touching her cheek affectionately.

"I've missed you, too," he agreed. "Right, I should—" he nodded towards the stairs, and Draco clapped him sympathetically on the back.

"Go. We'll see you soon."

Blaise nodded his wordless thanks as he and Gia headed in opposite directions, leaving Draco and Leolin alone in the den.

"We should go, too," Draco said finally, touching Leolin's back.

Leolin accepted his arm but didn't speak, still trying to come to grips with what she'd seen and heard while remembering the ugliness of what they were about to face. It wasn't until they were halfway to the small cemetery on the hill a quarter mile behind The Burrow that she finally broke the silence.

"Do you think it's true, what Gia said about Sev?" she asked softly.

"I think it's a problem for another day," Draco admitted. "Right now we need to focus on saying goodbye. Weasley deserves that."

Leolin bowed her head and nodded, knowing he was right. They trudged up the small hill that lead to the sleepy graveyard at the top. There was a cluster of no more than twenty worn headstones scattered in haphazard rows, all protected by an ancient willow that stood swaying in the breeze. There was already a small group of mourners gathered around a freshly dug hole in the ground, and Leolin dug her nails into Draco's arm as they approached, trying to keep her composure. More than anything today, the Weasleys needed her strength.

They were greeted immediately by the painfully beautiful lament from a phoenix circling overhead, and the aching bittersweetness of it stung Leolin's eyes. She wondered where the bird had come from. The only other phoenix she'd ever seen was the one who'd belonged to Dumbledore, but she knew the last time he'd ever been seen was at the Headmaster's funeral at the end of the Second War. As she continued to wonder where this creature belonged, she spotted a familiar waifish blonde woman standing near the tree, arm in arm with a auburn-haired man she'd never met but nevertheless recognised. He looked so like his grandfather, and she'd certainly seen his picture enough times in her five years of Care of Magical Creatures.

She remembered hearing now that Luna Lovegood had married Rolf Scamander. He'd also become a Magizooligist, and there could be no doubt now that the phoenix belonged to him. Next to Luna and Rolf was Cho Chang and her husband Wen. She leaned into him, looking incredibly mournful. Beside her was a stately black woman who'd also been friends with them, but whose name Leolin couldn't quite remember. She'd been in Ravenclaw, too, though, and Leolin did recall she was from a prominent pureblood family in Haiti. The Saint-Croixs, Leolin thought it was.

Finally her eyes met Harry's across the way, and though Grace and the girls weren't with him, his godfather was, looking solemn. Harry nodded silently to her in greeting, and she blew a small kiss in return. There were more familiar faces, of course, both from Hogwarts and the original Order, most of whom were friends with Molly and Arthur, but at that moment the phoenix's dirge grew louder, and they turned to watch the Weasley clan ascending the hill, the sleek coffin levitating gracefully amongst them.

Fred's widow Angelina stood to its left, their toddler Leo on her left hip and her right pressed lovingly to the wood. George stood to its right, holding hands with one of his girls. A step behind him was Nikki, holding the other on her hip.

Leolin bit her lip as they drew nearer, watching the tears slide down Angelina's cheeks as she bit her trembling lip. Finally the coffin settled on a dais placed above the grave, and everyone waited for Angelina to sit before taking their seats as well. It was here that Lee Jordan, Fred and George's best friend, rose to speak, but he was interrupted by a soft pop.

At the sound of apparation, everyone turned to watch a scrawny 17-year-old in Hufflepuff robes approach, a white lily clutched in his hand. Silently he advanced, handing the lily to Angelina. Next was an eleven-year-old Gryffindor girl flanked by two men dressed in muggle suits who were clearly her parents. She too offered a lily to Angelina before retreating to stand by the older boy. At this point a steady stream of students were cresting the hill, all dressed in their school robes, the younger ones often accompanied by their parents. Each bore a lily, and they offered them to Angelina in turn. There were twenty-one of them in total, and as the last one, a fresh faced Slytherin girl who looked about fourteen, gave Angelina the flower, she began to sob, clutching the full bouquet in her lap.

"Thank you," Angelina choked, squeezing the girl's hand.

She nodded softly before retreating to stand with the other twenty students. There was a tense moment of silence as everyone waiting for Angelina to compose herself. Finally, Angelina took a shuddering sob and rose to her feet. However, Leolin could tell at once she had no intention of speaking. Instead she gently accepted Leo, who had been fussing in Ginny's lap, hoisting him onto her hip before approaching the casket. She didn't speak as she traced a gentle hand down it, tears in her eyes. Finally She gingerly leant down to kiss the casket, and Leo followed her lead. Lai bit her lip watching him, wondering how long it would be before he was able to truly understand all that he'd lost.

Angelina then retreated back as George finally stood, squeezing Nikki's hand before folding Angelina, who was one of his closest friends as much as she was his sister-in-law, into his embrace, whispering gently into her ear as she nodded. He then pressed a kiss to Leo's forehead and ran an affectionate hand over his textured curls before turning and taking a deep breath and surveying the crowd of mourners, eyes still red-rimmed but expression resolute.

"There will never be words eloquent to describe all the ways my brother Fred enriched our lives," he began in a hoarse voice. "And those twenty-one lillies say more about him than I ever could." He paused, looking down momentarily, licking his dry lips "So today the thing I most want to express today is how much you all enriched his life in turn."

He turned first to Molly.

"Mum," he began, and tears were already shining in her eyes. "You should know that every bad thing we ever did was entirely Fred's idea, and I tried to stop him every time, I swear."

Molly laughed through her tears, and George gave a small smile at hearing it.

"You should also know," he continued. "That you have been the single greatest influence in our lives, and the last promise we made to each other was to take care of you. It's my honour to keep that promise for both of us."

Molly gave a soft hiccuping sob, and Arthur rubbed her back soothingly. George turned to address him.

"Dad, Fred always said your passion for all things Muggle weirdness inspired his creativity, and Wizard Wheezes would never have been as successful without your guiding hand. Bill, after Fred, you are the bravest person I've ever known, and I know he thought so, too. You gave him the courage to do what he did, and all these kids here today owe you their thanks as well."

He turned to Charlie.

"Charlie, no offense to the other four, but you are the coolest sibling of all time. Everyone's been thinking it, I'm just saying it."

They all laughed, and Bill shrugged in agreement. George turned to Percy, who was also on the verge of tears. Seeing him so moved tugged at Leolin. He'd always been the outlier among the group, and while it had often served as a punchline, she realised how painful it had likely been for him.

"Perce, I want to tell you Fred and I felt bad for all the pranks we played on you, but the truth is that your reactions were just too rich. Still, I hope you know they were rooted in our love for you, and Fred would want to tell you that we love you just as you are."

Percy bowed his head, and Hermione, who sat beside him, rubbed his back.

"Ron," George began, continuing down the line. "I know as the best friend of the chosen one and the husband of the smartest witch alive, you sometimes feel invisible. I want you to know that you were never invisible to Fred and me. He was so very proud of you, and so am I. Gin, I know I speak for Freddy when I say that besides not being able to watch Leo grow up, his biggest regret in dying is that we didn't torture Blaise more when you first brought him home. Don't worry; it's an error I mean to correct."

Again everyone gave a soft chuckle, and George smiled and looked down as Ginny squeezed Blaise's hand. When he looked back up, however, he was no longer smiling, and Leolin could see he was choking on tears.

"Ange," he said after clearing his throat. "You and Leo were the light of Fred's life, and he'd want to remind you that he loves you still, and he'll be watching over you both until you see each other again. Finally, I just want to say," he croaked, taking a deep breath to fight down the tears. "That the dead are not dead if we loved them truly, and in our own lives we can give them immortality by arising and taking up their good work." He paused again before continuing, voice tight.

"There is so much I've yet to understand or accept about my brother's death, but there is one thing I do know: he didn't die in vain. This fight isn't over—in fact, it's barely begun—but no matter what comes next, we won't forget heroes like Snape and my brother, and when we win, it will be in their name."

He then went to kneel at the casket's head, resting his forehead against it.

"It's not goodbye," he whispered softly. "It's just see you later."

Finally, he straightened, drew his wand, and sent white sparks into the air. Everyone slowly drew theirs and did the same, first the Weasley siblings, then Arthur, Molly, and the assembled, and finally Angelina, who's exploded into a shower of glimmering light that fell like diamond snow. As it touched the coffin it began to descend into the ground, and Leolin couldn't stifle the sob as it was lowered. When it had disappeared from view completely, Angelina drew her wand again and gently flourished it, and the dirt on either side cascaded down, filling the hole slowly but steadily. Finally it was a fresh pile of earth, and Angelina bent to place the bouquet of lilies on the earth as a smooth grey stone blossomed from it, Fred's name already etched on it.

It was here that Fleur unexpectedly stepped forward, swishing her wand and murmuring a soft spell. A figure began morphing gracefully from the granite, finally settling as a female mourner draped artfully against the headstone, head resting gently upon it. Everyone seemed somewhat confused by the gesture, but Leolin knew it well, and it made it impossible to hold in the few tears she'd been fending off.

In the French burial tradition, it was customary for a stone guardian to sit eternal vigil at the deceased's grave to preserve the grief of their passing in honour of their life.

Fleur retreated silently back to Bill's side, pausing only momentarily to squeeze Angelina's hand. At this, the phoenix resumed it achingly poignant dirge, and the mourners rose, preparing to retreat to the house for the wake. However, a loud crack stopped them in their tracks, and it caused several shrieks of surprise. The figure who'd arrived with it, however, seemed unperturbed, and Leolin couldn't help trading an incredulous glance with Draco as the squat figure approached.

"How is that possible?" she breathed to him, and he shook his head in similar disbelief.

"There are students here, I suppose," he whispered back, watching with keen eyes as Peeves the Hogwarts Poltergeist[SC2] approached, a wand in his right hand and a long, wrapped package in his left. He approached and extended the wand to Angelina, who let out a soft sob.

"For you," he said in his gravelly voice, and she nodded a wordless thanks as her lip continued to tremble.

He then turned to George—perhaps the only Hogwarts student he'd ever seemed to respect—offering him the package.

"From the headmistress," he explained as George untied the strings and let the soft leather wrapping fall away to reveal the gleaming Gryffindor sword. Even in the gloom the rubies set into the hilt sparkled, and George clutched it to his chest. Peeves watched him for a moment before turning to the grave. He surveyed it with the closest thing Leolin had _ever_ seen to remorse, dark eyes devoid of their usual malice. After a minute he drew a small flask from his faded emerald coat, took a swig, and poured a measure onto the fresh earth. He then blew a long, almost mournful raspberry, and disappeared in the small manner he'd appeared: with a large crack.

No one spoke afterwards, and George stood, the sword clutched to his chest like a child with a teddy. Finally he knelt, offering the sword to the stone mourner Fleur'd created, and she accepted his offering, resting it in her lap before returning to complete inanimacy. George watched her numbly for a second, studying the gleaming scarlet and gold sword before sinking back onto his heels, covering his face with his hand and beginning to weep. His shoulders shook as he sobbed like a child, and for a moment no one moved, just watched helplessly as he seemed to confront the fact he'd been rendered a fractured half of a whole that would never be complete again.

Leolin watched across the grave as Emma, the more assertive of George's twins, exchanged a look with Ella. They were still babies in her eyes, but Leolin realised with a pang that only they could wholly understand what George was feeling. Instantly they took hands and approached George cautiously, sinking down on either side of him and hugging him around the neck. Nikki covered her mouth to cover a sob as George accepted their embrace, wrapping an arm around both of them as if he never meant to let go.

"It's okay, Papa," Emma offered quietly, touching his wet cheek.

Leolin felt a sob in her own throat now, too, and she leant into Draco as he strung an arm around her and pulled her against him. He didn't make a sound, but she felt the salty wetness on his cheek as he cradled her.

Finally, with the girls help, George seemed to compose himself, and he rose, still holding them both in his arms.

"Enough tears," he announced, giving soft, satisfactory smile. "Someone get me a drink."

* * *

The celebration had lasted well into the evening, and though the Weasleys had stopped all the clocks in the house—it was a customary Wizarding tradition when a family member died—Leolin estimated it was close to midnight. She sat with Draco, Blaise, and Ginny in the back garden, watching a magnificent display of Wizard Wheezes fireworks display, petting the sleeping Rodames with her foot, and smiling softly.

The pain of the funeral had faded effortlessly into a raucous celebration of Fred's life, and despite everything, Leolin's heart felt buoyant with joy. She glanced at Draco (on whose lap she was currently sitting), and he returned her warm gaze, all evidence of their tiff in the flat earlier long forgotten.

"Well, I would say that was suitably epic," Blaise commented, smiling at Ginny in turn.

"It's annoying my Mum keeps saying it," she agreed. "But she's right; this is what Fred would have wanted."

"I think so, too," Leolin offered, leaning back into Draco. "I only wish George hadn't made us drink so much firewhiskey. I'm pretty much legless."

"No, Fred definitely would have wanted that, too," Ginny said, smiling faintly. "Especially the bit where Percy jeffed. I know he's somewhere out there still laughing his arse off about it."

"Poor Percy," Leolin laughed sympathetically. She'd privately promised herself she'd be kinder to him going forward.

"It's not his fault he's not a functioning alcoholic like the rest of us," Draco pointed out mildly, stroking Leolin's leg.

"Are we functioning?" Blaise asked, voice languid with drink. "I think after tonight I might have finally crossed over into raging drunkard."

"What are you lot complaining about?" Ginny said. "I haven't had a drink in an age."

"Not long now," Blaise smiled, touching her stomach gently. "Then you can drink all the firewhiskey you want."

"Have you settled on a name yet?" Draco asked, watching a glittering dragon soaring across the inky sky.

Ginny and Blaise exchanged a warm look.

"Niccolo, if it's a boy. For Blaise's father. Nic Frederick."

"I love it," Leolin said warmly, reaching over to squeeze Blaise's hand. "So would Fred."

"Yeah," Ginny said wistfully. "I reckon so, too."

"The trick's going to be keeping your brother George from finding out," Blaise said, nudging Ginny playfully. "Or he'll end up being Niccolo Freorge."

"Or Gred," Draco offered, and they laughed.

"What about if it's a girl?" Leolin asked.

"We have no idea," Blaise admitted. "But I'm pulling for a mouthful like Immaculatorina. Something to confuse stupid teenage boys and keep them at bay."

"That's what you said about Giacomina," Ginny pointed out, tilting her head up to watch another bout of fantastic fireworks light the sky. "And look how well that turned out."

"Oh right!" Leolin exclaimed, rotating to look at Blaise pointedly. "Let's talk about that, shall we?"

"We don't have to," Blaise said, laughing half-heartedly. "I wouldn't want to bore you to death."

"I think I'll manage," Leolin replied. "You have a _sister_? Since bloody when?"

"Since she was born 20 years ago?" Blaise ventured.

"Is she—" Leolin began, trying to sort out where she even wanted to begin. "Your full sister? I mean, is she your dad's daughter, too?"

"Decidedly not," Blaise replied vaguely.

Ginny glanced at him, as if silently asking for permission to explain. He didn't say anything, and she began instead.

"Lauren had her—outside her second marriage. Gia grew up with her own dad in London."

"When did you find out about her?" Leolin pressed.

"Just before you left," Blaise admitted finally. "Her dad died and guardianship passed to my mum again."

"So she's been living with her since—"

"No," Blaise interrupted. "She was eleven at the time, so old enough to know what was happening, but too little to understand why my mum did what she did. I feel like she still doesn't. Things between them are—complicated, to say the least."

"I'm sorry," Leolin said quickly, glancing at Draco and feeling guilty for pressing what was clearly a painful subject. "I just—"

"No, I know," Blaise reassured her. "And I suppose I couldn't keep her from you forever."

"Especially since she's, you know, a famous supermodel," Draco laughed.

"She seems lovely," Leolin offered, trying to atone for her nosiness.

"Does she?" Blaise laughed. "Because she's mostly just a sharp-tongued pain in the arse."

"She's precocious," Draco defended warmly.

"That's one word for it," Ginny said, smiling at Blaise and rubbing the back of his neck.

"Let's just be glad she's back so we can keep an eye on her," Draco said.

"I am," Blaise admitted in a more serious voice. "I just wish I knew how to control her. Or at least some way to keep away all the blokes she's always got in tow."

"She's young," Ginny laughed. "Let her have fun."

"She ought to find some nice, boring Ministry hack and settle down," Blaise said, sounding every bit the overprotective brother.

"At twenty, Blaise?" Leolin laughed. "Be realistic!"

"You were engaged at twenty!" he defended, laughing too.

"That's only because she was with sexiest bloke on earth," Draco offered, and Leolin rolled her eyes. "Why keep shopping around when you've already met human perfection?"

"Perfection?" Ginny scoffed. "Hardly."

"I am perfect!" Draco laughed. "Cal, tell Ginevra I'm perfect."

"No, she's right," Leolin said, smirking at him. "You do snore."

"No, I don't," Draco said arrogantly. "But nice bloody try."

"Well, you've got shite eyesight," Blaise said, trading a mirthful glance with Ginny.

"And you got an A in Herbology your sixth year," Leolin pointed out.

"Oh, and you're not even a Hogwarts grad!" Ginny said, making Leolin and Blaise laugh.

"Actually he is now," Leolin said, running her hand through Draco's silky hair and making him hum in self-satisfaction. "McGonagall told me to tell you that you aren't banned from the grounds anymore."

"Doesn't mean he's getting a diploma," Blaise goaded.

"Ha, ha, Drake's a degenerate dropout!" Ginny sang.

"Thanks a lot, Lefevre," Draco muttered in false sullenness. "You're supposed to be on my side."

"I am, darling," Leolin said. "Always. Just not against Ginny."

Ginny blew a self-satisfied raspberry at Draco, and he rolled his eyes and laughed.

"Thank god I'm married to her, then," Blaise said in a dry voice. "There's nothing worse than going up against the Lefevroy war machine."

He gave an overly dramatic shudder, and Leolin and Draco exchanged a smug look.

"We are a rather superior team, aren't we?" she asked, and he raised his eyebrows and kissed her saucily.

"Savage, more like," Blaise said. "Honestly, it's brutal. Not to mention annoying."

"Well they weren't sorted into Slytherin for nothing," Ginny pointed out. "And I think we're going to need a little savagery in the next few months."

The mood changed as she said it, and Leolin bowed her head. Sitting here with Draco Adrian felt a million miles away, but in reality, he was less than two hundred. She imagined him seated at Lucius's side in Malfoy Manor, and she fought off a shudder.

"You've beaten him more than once," Draco said softly in her ear. "You'll beat him again."

"He's beaten me, too," Leolin admitted. "Your father never would have gotten those coins if he hadn't."

"It's in the past, Lai," Blaise reassured her. "Don't blame yourself."

"It's on all of us," Ginny agreed. "And for what it's worth, I think we would have ended up here either way."

"Maybe," Leolin said. "But Sweeney would still be here. And Viktor Krum and Merlin knows who else."

"Don't mourn the dead," Blaise said sagely after a moment of silence. "Celebrate their life and the joyous music it made."

Leolin watched a final display of fireworks burst across the horizon, and she nodded, though her throat remained tight.

"We won't let him die in vain," Ginny offered, squeezing Leolin's hand. "And I bet you right now he and my brother are getting drunk and having a proper laugh together. I always thought they'd get on brilliantly."

Leolin smiled, trying to set the lingering pain of Sweeney's death aside.

"They would have," Leolin agreed, leaning back against Draco again.

"I'm sure they're have loads of wacky adventures to tell us about when we finally see them again."

The idea was exquisitely bittersweet, and instead of fighting it off, she allowed the sensation to wash over her.

"I hope you're right," she said finally.

"I am," Ginny said, taking a deep breath. "I have to be," she added quietly after a moment.

They once again lapsed into silence, but it was a comfortable one, and Leolin knew that Ginny was still trying to process the day's goings on. Funerals were such an odd mixture of pain and joy, and it was impossible to extricate one from the other. That was why the French had an eternal mourner; so the bereaved didn't have to.

"Merlin," Blaise said mildly after several minutes, glancing at his watch. "It's bloody one in the morning."

"We should get going," Leolin said, getting off Draco's lap and smoothing her dress as Rodames stirred as well, stretching his legs.

"Where?" Ginny said. "Belgravia?"

"No, I—" Leolin began, remembering the blood red message scrawled on the mirror. "The flat was compromised."

Ginny covered her mouth with her hands.

"I'm sorry," she said, sounding vaguely horror-stricken. "That's my fault. I was in such a panic when I woke up I completely forgot to drop the wards."

Leolin and Draco exchanged a look. It at least explained how Adrian had found the place and gotten in. He could have followed her magical signature, and without the wards, the flat would have been easy to break into.

"It's nothing," Leolin assured her, exchanging another look with Draco. "Just stuff; nothing we can't replace."

"Besides, we wouldn't go back to London either way," he pointed out. "You shouldn't, either. It's not safe for any of us right now."

"We're staying here for a bit," Ginny explained, still looking guilty, and Blaise placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"Gin," Leolin pleaded, touching her cheek. "Stop fretting. We're going to my stepdad's place in the Highlands. Drake's right; it's much safer there anyway."

"Or you could stay here," Blaise offered. "It's a long way to Scotland."

"We have apparation stones," Draco assured him. "Besides, the minute we get home I'm going to shag this one senseless, and we _all_ know how loud Leolin gets."

"Drake!" Leolin said, laughing and elbowing him in the ribs. "Don't air our business like that!"

"It's hardly a secret, darling," Draco growled quietly, grabbing her around the waist and kissing her neck.

"Oh my days, stop," Ginny demanded, shielding her eyes. "Not in front of the baby, please."

Draco laughed, and Leolin could feel the vibrations humming through her back.

"Then we really ought to get going," Draco smirked, and Blaise pretended to gag.

"You are fucking incorrigible," Leolin leveled at him, making him laugh again. "Honestly, what would your mother say?"

"If we never tell her we never have to find out," Draco said in smug voice, and Blaise shuddered again.

"Okay, get out of here then," he said, kissing Leolin's cheek before embracing Draco. "We'll see you soon."

"Be careful," Ginny added please. "It's dangerous out there."

"We will be," Draco assured her. "You be careful, too."

"The New Order is reconvening in a few days," Blaise said. "We'll send word when we know more."

"We'll be here," Leolin said.

"Thank you again for coming," Ginny said softly. "I don't know you really know what it meant to have you with me."

"We'll always be here," Draco assured her. "For the bad times as much as the good."

Ginny nodded, suddenly slightly tearful again, and Leolin touched her cheek affectionately before grabbing her forgotten wine glass and holding it up.

"Shall we have one more toast?" she offered, and Ginny nodded, wiping a tear and accepting her glass of water from Blaise as Draco miraculously (or perhaps predictably) produced a bottle of champagne from his cache and popped the cork, pouring a measure into his, Leolin's, and Blaise's glass. Ginny watched him before draining her water and extending hers as well.

"If I can't drink to this, what can I?"

Draco smiled and filled her glass before raising his. However, it was Blaise who spoke first.

"When we are sorrowful," he began sagely. "We must look again in our hearts and see we are weeping for that which has been our delight."

"To Fred," Leolin offered next. "Let the angels whisper hourly benedictions over his blessed grave."

"To Fred," Draco added. "A legend upon men."

"To my brother," Ginny said finally, smiling though tears. "Here's hoping he was in heaven at half an hour before the devil found out he was dead."

They smiled as they all touched glasses.

"A- _men_."

* * *

I have this new irrational fear that I'll get kicked off the site for plagarism, so know that some of the best quotes in here are not mine.

* * *

"the dead are not dead if we loved them truly, and in our own lives we can give them immortality by arising and taking up their good work"

—Felix Adler

"Don't mourn the death; celebrate the life and the joyous music it made."

—The Bag Lady

"When we are sorrowful, we must look again in our hearts and see we are weeping for that which has been our delight."

—Kahlil Gibran

"Let the angels whisper hourly benedictions over his blessed grave."

—Irish Blessing

"And may you be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows you're dead."

—Irish Blessing

* * *

Next chapter you'll get to see Felix again, Severina, Xavier, Kelly, and all your other favourites, so stay tuned!


	3. Chapter 3: Heavy is the Head

**Chapter 3: Heavy is the Head**

A week later, Leolin lay in bed next to Draco, flitting in and out of discontented sleep. Sunrise was still twenty minutes off, she guessed, but she found herself increasingly more awake as her heart pounded uncomfortably.

When they'd arrived at James's safe house in the Scottish Highlands—which had turned out to be a thirteenth century abbey James had restored—it was to find he and Ariadne weren't there. Leolin had spent the next several hours in a panic, crying and pacing the sprawling grounds as Draco begged her to remain calm. At daybreak a small sparrow arrived with a note from Ariadne explaining that she and James were safe, but hadn't made it out of London before the Empire's wards had fallen. They would be along in a few days, Ariadne assured Leolin, and she and Draco ought to lay low and relax until they arrived.

However, Leolin had found this advice almost impossible to heed, and she was restless in a way that no amount of exploring the Abbey or reading or even sex could truly assuage. She only managed to sleep several hours a night, and even then it was terribly fitful. She couldn't stop imagining her mother trapped in Lucius's insidious grip, and she often woke with a start, cold sweat seeping down her back. Draco did his best to soothe her, but she was generally not to be consoled, and in the end he found it easier to leave her alone than pester her.

Leolin sat up more fully in bed, running a hand through her hair and sighing. Draco was still sleeping beside her, lying on his back with a hand slung across his taut stomach. Rodames was curled at the foot of the large four poster, head resting comfortably on his paws. They both looked peaceful, and she yearned to join them. Still, her pulse continued to race, and she knew she had to get up. She leaned down to brush Draco's lips with hers, and he stirred slightly.

"What time is it?" he asked blearily, readjusting to accommodate her as Leolin laid her head in the crook of his shoulder.

"Early," she replied, trying to relax into his embrace. However, her pounding heart was sending tons of oxygen to her brain, and she was bursting with fitful energy.

"Couldn't sleep?" he said, eyes still closed as he stroked her back with his knuckles.

"No," she admitted.

"Try to relax, Cal," he murmured, tugging her closer to him. "It's going to be fine."

At this Leolin sat up, gently detangling from him. Much as she wanted to be comforted by his blind optimism, in reality it just agitated her, and his embrace, however well-intentioned, felt more suffocating than soothing.

"Where are you going?" he asked, sitting up as well. His hair was wild from sleeping in whatever pomade he always styled it with, and he ran a hand through it in a vain attempt to smooth it back into place.

"I just need to clear my head," she replied vaguely, slipping back into the silk nightgown she'd been wearing before he'd taken it off her the night before before grabbing a fresh pair of knickers from a faded bureau. "I'm going to walk the grounds."

"Lai—" He began, sounding tired, but she shook her head.

"Don't," she warned, slipping into her knickers and robe now, too. "Don't patronise me."

"I'm not patronising you," Draco defended. "But I can't live like this, Lai. It's maddening."

She wheeled on him, eyes narrowing.

"Charming."

He grit his teeth, rising—still naked—from bed.

"I just meant that what good is it to fret?" he asked, putting on his discarded boxer briefs and smoothing his hair back again. "Your mum's message said not to worry. Please, just come back to bed and—"

He reached to skim a hand over the curve of her hip, and she batted it away, annoyed.

"That's easy for you to say, considering Narcissa's probably lounging on an Aegean beach somewhere being fanned by a pool boy."

"Don't," he snarled, advancing and taking her firmly by the arm. "Talk about my mother like that."

"Oh, get off me. I'm going out."

"Like hell you are," he snapped. "Get back here."

He reached to restrain her again, and she pushed him back, eyes flashing more fiercely now. She'd drawn her wand—he wasn't sure from where—and she pointed it at him.

"Touch me like that again and I'll hex your nob off."

"Leolin," he said in a commanding tone, deftly moving in front of her and blocking her exit with his bulk. "Don't be reckless."

"I'm not a child!" she said petulantly.

"Then stop acting like one and do as you're told."

"Or what?" she sneered.

He gave a cold, hollow laugh, folding his toned arms across his still-bare chest.

"You honestly think I couldn't stop you? I outweigh you by three stone."

"Now you're threatening me?" she demanded. "How romantic."

She slipped deftly under his arm before dancing out of his reach, and he growled in increasing frustrated.

"Honestly, woman—"

Suddenly there was a distant crash from outside the window, and they both turned to look. Rodames woke and stood up immediately, ears pricked up and growling quietly

"What was that?" she demanded, going to the narrow window set into the stone wall and peering out. He followed her. "Someone's out there," she said, breath ragged.

They watched a group of five or so figures approaching. It was hard to see in the darkness, which was lit only by the intruders' wands and one person carrying a lantern, but they all wore hoods, and Draco could see immediately they were armed to the teeth.

"You can't go down there," Draco said, wrestling into jeans. "Leolin, listen to me!"

He made to grab her, but she wriggled from his grip yet again.

"The hell I can't," she said. "They could have my mum."

"Then I'll go. Please just stay h— _Merlin!_ "

She tore from the room before he could stop her, and he swore as he watched the figure at the vanguard swish their wand and obliterate the ward, allowing the group to pass from the front gate to the interior courtyard. He could see now that they also had a half-conscious figure with them, and it made his blood run cold.

"Leolin!"

Draco hastily grabbed his own wand and a shirt.

"Rodames, pas bouger," he demanded, slamming the door behind him and ignoring the dog's sharp, staccato barks as he tore after her down the curving stone staircase, cursing himself for not thinking to grab boots; it was bloody freezing, even inside the abbey. Still, there wasn't time to do it now.

He caught up to Leolin easily as she tore down the second flight of stairs, and he grabbed her by the arm, pressing her to the wall.

"Are you mad?" he hissed, using his body weight to keep her from wriggling away. "You're going to get yourself killed!"

They could hear distant voices now, and she let out a shuddering breath.

"Let go of me," she snarled quietly.

"Listen to me," he pleaded, looking around. "There's too many of them, and they've already breached the perimetre. You need to get out of here. I'll— _ah_!"

She'd slammed her knee into his shin, and he momentarily released as he crumpled a little.

"Damnit, _Leolin_!" he wheezed. "Get back here!"

She tore silently down the exposed passageway that bordered the cloistered courtyard, intending to skirt wide and catch the intruders from behind. She found that as manic as she'd been the past week, she now felt only chilling calm. Fight or flight had kicked in, and her hearing and eyesight sharpened as the oxygen in her brain kept her focused. Rounding the corner, she made sure no one had seen her before she burst into the courtyard and raised her wand.

"Stop right there," she snarled. "Or I'll kill you all."

The figure in the back of the group turned immediately and dropped their hood, and Leolin lowered her wand.

"Mum?"

"Leolin!" Ariadne cried, tearing towards Leolin and folding her into a mothering embrace.

"Where have you been?" Leolin croaked as James dropped his own hood and handed the torch he'd been carrying to a burly man Leolin didn't recognise.

"We're sorry to give you a fright," James explained as he approached. "But we were ambushed on our way out of the city, and we couldn't be sure it was safe here."

By this time Draco had arrived, hobbling slightly as he came forward to embrace James.

"Are you alright?" James asked, grabbing Draco's shoulder. "You're limping."

"Fine," Draco said in a dry voice. "Someone just kneed me in the shin."

Leolin gave him a sheepish look, and he returned it with his usual mixture of frustration and admiration. Leolin then turned back to the group and realised two of the figures were supporting a bloodied man who was groaning quietly.

"What happened?" she asked, turning to her mother.

"We got ambushed, like I said," James repeated. "We need to get Lachlan inside."

Leolin nodded as Draco helped James undo the complicated ward.

"Down these stairs," James instructed the two men carrying Lachlan.

The abbey's old chapel had been converted into a game room of sorts, and Leolin hurriedly cleared the pool table with a flick of her wand as they eased him down onto it.

"Bollocks," he groaned as Leolin tore his shirt open to inspect the damage. However, as he caught sight of her he gave a wry grin.

"Aren't you bonnie," he said, wincing as she prodded his side. "Are you my nurse?"

"Lachlan, my _stepdaughter_ Leolin," James said pointedly. "And her fiancée Draco."

"Charmed," Draco said in a chilly voice, and Ariadne squeezed his shoulder affectionately.

"Who did this?" Leolin asked Lachlan, brow furrowed. She was by no means a healer, but she'd mended enough wounds in the field to know what to look for.

"Your good friend Adrian Pucey," James said in a hard voice. "He's been made Warden of the City."

"Will I live, Healer?" Lachlan quipped before hissing in pain as Leolin prodded the wound again.

"How did you manage to get out?" she asked, ignoring Lachlan a second time.

"With great difficulty," James admitted. "The city is absolutely choked with Solarrii."

"We thought you'd come straight here after the wedding," Draco explained. "Leolin's been worried sick."

"I'm sorry," Ariadne said sympathetically, watching Leolin as she continued to examine the wound. "But James insisted we go to the Ministry and help get people out."

"And did you?" Draco pressed.

"Saved our bacon," one of the men replied, giving James an appreciative look.

"How many casualties?" Leolin asked, and James sighed, running a hand through his greying hair.

"Over a hundred," he admitted. "It was a massacre. Your friend Felix is safe, though. And the Scottish girl as well. Tough wee lass, she is."

"What about Moira Ivers?" Leolin queried.

James and Ariadne exchanged a pitying look.

"I'm sorry, darling," Ariadne breathed. "She was already dead when we got there."

Leolin temporarily stopped what she was doing, bowing her head. She'd sent Moira to the ministry, to her death. She took a steadying breath.

"Who else?" she demanded. "What about Cara Troy?"

"She's safe," James said. "But you should know that Pucey's imperiused her husband. I saw him in a Solarii cloak."

Leolin and Draco exchanged a look. They couldn't reveal the truth to James, and certainly not in front of a group a strangers.

"I'm sorry," Ariadne repeated to Leolin. "I know he was your friend."

"Nothing that we can do about it now," Leolin said vaguely. "Drake, I need you to find me a bottle of liquor. Anything you can find."

"There's a bottle of strong Scotch in the kitchen cupboards," James offered, and Draco nodded before starting off.

"Good news and bad news, Lachlan," Leolin said, putting pressure on the wound, causing it to ooze blood.

"Good news first then," Lachlan grit out.

"The curse only knicked you," Leolin explained. "So you'll live."

"Bad news?"

"I'm going to have to remove a kidney."

"What?" Lachlan croakd, and Leolin gave a wry smile.

"I'm kidding. The bad news is that this is probably going to hurt, and that you're going to have to be on bedrest for a few days."

"I'm tough," Lachlan said. "Do your worst."

"I like to think I'll do my best," Leolin said. "But I'm not a healer. You're probably going to have an ugly scar."

"I'm Scottish, lass. We live for scars."

"Good," Leolin said, accepting the bottle Draco'd just returned with. "This is going to sting. Ready?"

"Give us a countdown," Lachlan said as the two blokes on either side of him took his hands.

"Alright," Leolin said. "On three. One—"

She tipped a numbing potion over the wound on what should have been two, and he screamed in pain. Leolin then took the scotch and poured a liberal amount on the wound to clean it. She soaked up the excess with her wand before beginning a row of short, tight stitches.

"Merlin's bunghole!" Lachlan hissed.

"Almost done," Leolin lied.

"Give me a wee drop of that scotch," Lachlan croaked, and James poured a small measure down his throat as Leolin continued to work.

Finally she was done, and she accepted a fresh bandage from her mother before pressing it to Lachlan's side.

"Get him to one of the beds and give him a pain potion. Nothing too strong," Leolin instructed the other men, and they nodded and helped Lachlan limp up the stairs.

When they were gone Leolin slumped down onto the pool table, taking a shuddering breath and looking down at her blood-soaked hands.

"You were brilliant," James assured her, touching her back affectionately. "Thank you."

Leolin tipped sideways to rest her forehead against his chest, and he stroked her hair.

"You're alright, darling," he assured her. "We're here now."

"We were just so worried about you," Leolin explained, taking another deep breath. "I thought maybe—"

"Of course not," Ariadne interrupted, coming to hug Leolin as well. "You know your old mum is more clever than that."

"We're just relieved you two are alright," James said, shooting Draco a protective glance.

"Oh Leolin, your neck," Ariadne began, pushing Leolin's silk robe aside to eye the violet bruises. They'd faded somewhat since the night of the wedding, but they were still nasty.

"I'm fine," Leolin said, shrugging her touch off. The last thing she wanted at that moment was to relive the night at the Manor.

"Shall we have a drink, then?" James asked. "After all that, I think I may need one. Pucey's not exactly the most magnanimous of hosts."

Leolin nodded, and Ariadne took her hand.

"Come to the kitchen. I'll fix us something to eat, and the four of us can talk."

James extended a hand to Ariadne and she took it, ascending the stairs and heading back up towards the kitchen. When they were alone, Draco turned to Leolin, eyes glittering as he watched her.

"Are you alright?" he asked in a mild voice too casual to be wholly convincing.

She nodded, giving him a rueful look.

"I'm sorry," she said, feeling sheepish, and he raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips. "For kneeing you so hard."

"Tell that to my fractured shinbone," he said in a dry voice.

She shook her head, moving running a sticky hand through her hair before thinking better of it. She let her arm fall limply to her side instead.

"I just—" she began. "Instinct kicked in and I—"

He shook his, too, placing his hands on her shoulders and tugging her closer to him.

"I was asking for it," he admitted, twirling a lock of her dark hair around a long, elegant finger. "I know better than to try and back you into a corner; I've seen what you can do to a bloke in a fight."

She gave an unexpected laugh, and he pulled her hips farther forward so they were brushing his.

"Do you feel better now that you know your mum and James are safe?"

"Loads," she admitted.

"I told you it would be fine," he pointed out, giving her a self-satisfied smile. "When are you just going to admit I'm always right?"

"Never," she said, and he smirked, leaning down to kiss her.

"Don't scare me like that again," he breathed more seriously against her lips. "I mean it."

She tensed a little, turning her head away.

"If the abbey really had been under attack, we couldn't just abandon it," Leolin pointed out, detangling herself further from his embrace. "Were you seriously willing to let my Mum and James walk into a trap when they finally made it back?"

Draco gave a soft groan.

"Of course not," he said, eyes flashing menacingly again. "But we wouldn't had any way to warn them if we'd been dead or captured. You're too reckless, Cal."

"And you're too cautious," she leveled back. "We aren't going to win this war by running and hiding."

He shook his head in annoyance.

"Well we aren't going to win it by dying uselessly, either!"

Leolin clenched her jaw, as if weighing what she wanted to say to that. However, in the end she simply shook her head and turned away. "C'mon, let's go. My mum's waiting."

She attempted to slide by him, but he stopped her before she could, caging her against the pool table again.

"Hey," he said, pressing his chest into her back as his breath fell on her neck, making her shiver. "I don't want to fight."

She turned in his arms, considering him with scrutiny.

"Neither do I," she pointed out, though there was a defiance in her voice she could tell he was deliberately choosing to ignore.

"Good," Draco breathed, pinning her hips with his as he bent his head to kiss her gently. "I don't like it when we're not on the same side."

"Then act like it," she said seriously, turning away again. "I'm not some bloody damsel in distress."

"I know that," he admitted after a beat of silence. "But I have to protect you, even if it's only from your own stupidity."

She pursed her lips.

"You promised me we'd be a team," she reminded him. "I need you to remember that."

He gave her an imperious look she latently yearned to slap off his face.

"I never said I'd forgotten," he pointed out.

"Then I need you to honour it."

"Leolin?" James called from the distant stairwell. "Draco? Are you coming?"

Leolin gave Draco a blazing look before nudging past followed the short stone labyrinth to the servants kitchen, and Ariadne immediately handed Leolin a glass of wine and gestured to a plate of fresh pancakes.

"Come," she urged, ushering them over to the roughly-hewn work table. "Sit. Eat."

They did as they were bid, and Leolin took a heady sip of wine as Draco grabbed a plate and several pancakes.

"Do you want to go first," James asked, taking a bite of his own syrup-drenched pancakes and washing it down with Scotch. "Or shall we?"

Leolin and Draco exchanged a glance.

"We lost Hogwarts Castle," she admitted as Draco silently tucked in.

"How many casualties?" Ariadne asked.

"We don't know," Draco offered, accepting a glass of Scotch James offered him. "The only confirmed death we have so far is Fred Weasley's."

"Poor Molly," Ariadne breathed, glancing over at James. "I can't imagine. How did you find out?"

Leolin and Draco exchanged a glance. It was Kelly who'd first told The Weasleys.

"They've left McGonagall in charge for now," Draco said finally. "She was able to pass the message to us, along with his wand and the sword of Gryffindor."

"He died getting Muggleborn students out," Leolin added mournfully. "He saved twenty-one lives."

"How old was he?" James asked in soft voice.

"Barely thirty," Draco said quietly, pushing his empty plate away and focusing on the glass of Scotch.

"It's such a waste," Ariadne tutted, eying Leolin meaningfully.

Silence reigned for a second as they all considered. Finally, Leolin couldn't bear it any longer, and she cleared her throat.

"What happened at the Ministry?"

James sighed heavily.

"It was a blood bath. By the time we arrived, they were already piling bodies and taking prisoners."

"How did you get out?" Leolin asked.

"Your American friend Crofton Teller sent a squadron of elite IAO Aurors. Do you know General Sainte-Croix? Big Haitian bloke?"

"I think we saw his daughter at Fred's funeral," Leolin said.

"That's right, Celeste. She was there with him, and about thirty others. Saint-Croix's the best Auror I've ever seen, and his team his hand-picked and well-trained. They weren't enough to turn the tide, but we were at least able to get my boys out, and Cara Troy and your Gryffindor friends. Still, it came at a steep price."

"I'm sorry about your friend Moira," Ariadne added. "I know how much you liked her."

"She's been my friend for ten years," Leolin admitted in a quiet voice. "And I sent her to her death."

"You can't think like that," James urged. "It's a disservice to her memory. She died bravely fighting for what she believed in, and she won't die in vain."

"We keep telling ourselves that," Leolin said. "But I'm not sure if I really believe it's true."

"It'll only be true if we win this war," Ariadne admitted. "So all the more vital we do."

"What happened after the Ministry?" Draco asked. "Where did you go?"

"The flat in London," James explained. "Walden McNair's boy was on us. He chased us all the way back there, but he couldn't break the wards. Or maybe he didn't think he needed to. Pucey had already closed the wards around the city. I think they assumed they had us trapped."

"How did you get out?" Leolin asked, exchanging a look with Draco.

"Lachlan managed to find a snag in the seam and tear it open big enough to for us to slip out of. Still, it wasn't exactly a painless maneuver. You saw the chunk Pucey took out of him."

"He does that," Draco said darkly.

"And no one followed you through?"

"No, thank Merlin," Ariadne said. "But he has to know we found a hole."

"Who made the ward?" Leolin pressed. "Adrian or Lucius?"

Now it was Ariadne and James's turn to share a look.

"Lucius," James admitted. "But London's a big city. Even he couldn't make a ward without some weak points. At least not yet, anyway."

"Is he still in the city?" Draco asked.

"We heard he went abroad."

"Where?"

"Iceland, we think," James said. "But our intel is weak at best."

"Why there?" Draco demanded, brow furrowed.

"We don't know," Ariadne said.

"To sack it?" Leolin ventured.

James shook his head.

"The Solarrii are still tied up on the Italian peninsula, and I'm afraid they're headed to France next."

Leolin looked at Ariadne, and she was sure they were thinking the same thing. If Paris fell into Solarrii control, Adrien and Amelie could be in danger.

"It's not ideal," James admitted. "Merlin only knows what he's doing that far North—but at least he's out of England for the time being. If we can spread your good friend Pucey thin enough, we might have a chance to strike."

"Please stop calling him that," Leolin said quietly, shoulders rounding, and James looked sympathetic.

"I'm sorry, darling. I didn't mean—"

"No, it's fine," Leolin said, feeling stupid for letting it bother her. "I just—"

"We know," Ariadne said, and Draco smoothed her back.

"You're right, though," Draco said. "With my father abroad, Adrian has an awful lot of ground to cover."

"Exactly," James agreed. "I think our next move ought to be—"

He broke off as a silvery light flashed across the window, disappearing to the left side of the pane before slinking back the other way.

"What's that?" Leolin demanded, but James held out a hand to her, drawing his wand.

"Stay here," he instructed. "I'll go find out."

"Be careful," Ariadne pleaded, and he nodded, polishing off his last swallow of Scotch before standing.

He swished carefully up the stone steps as the light moved steadily across the breadth of the window again. He was gone for what felt like forever, and Leolin let out a breath when he finally reappeared.

"What is it?" she demanded.

James's brow furrowed.

"You ought to come see for yourselves. Both of you."

Leolin scrambled up hastily and followed him out to the courtyard. The light was actually a sleek leopard patronus, which was pacing back and forth in agitation.

"That's Blaise's," Draco breathed as it began to speak.

"Drake," Blaise's voice began seriously. "Adrian's gotten employee records from the Ministry vaults. He has addresses, and he's breaking wards. There's no telling how long The Burrow is safe."

Leolin and Draco frowned at each other.

"Tell them to bring everyone here," James said at once. "There's more than enough space for the resistance, and it's well-guarded by the mountains."

Draco nodded, drawing his own wand.

" _Expecto Patronum._ "

A magnificent bird of prey burst from the tip, beating its silvery wings. Latently Leolin wondered what memory he'd used to conjure it. Draco quickly relayed the message, and it flashed off into the early light.

"Thank you," Leolin breathed to James, and he touched her shoulder in reassurance.

"It was the least we could do, all things considered. Will you to be alright?"

Leolin nodded, and her mother pressed forward to hug her fiercely.

"We're going to go to bed. It's been a long day."

Leolin nodded again, burying her head into her mother's shoulder. She never wore perfume, but she always smelled a certain way, like bergamot and rose, and it made Leolin feel safe.

"Check on Lachlan before you do," she muttered as Ariadne released her into James's embrace instead. He smell faintly of smoke, and the peet from his drink.

"It's good to see you both," he said, smoothing her hair and eying Draco appreciatively.

"And you," Draco said, shaking his hand. "Thank you for everything."

"Always," James assured him, touching Ariadne's back. "Ready, darling?"

She nodded, giving Leolin's hand another squeeze before tucking under James's arm and retreating back through the heavy doors of the abbey. When they were alone, Leolin let out a shaky exhale.

"Are you alright?" Draco murmured, coming behind her and resting his chin on her shoulder. Dawn was just cresting the peaks of distant mountains, and they were bathed in soft light.

"I'm fine," she said, turning in his arms. "It's just—it's really started, hasn't it?"

He surveyed her critically, like he wished he could take her worry and bear it instead.

"I'm afraid so," he admitted, tucking some hair behind her ear.

"Take me to bed," Leolin said softly, pressing into his arms and feeling soothed by his steady heartbeat.

He nodded, leaning back to kiss her before taking her hand and pulling her back inside the Abbey's protective warmth.

* * *

Visitors poured steadily in all the next day, starting with Ginny and Blaise around nine and continuing well into the afternoon. Leolin spent the majority of that time outside, watching familiar faces pouring in as she chewed her lip and waited for three figures in particular to arrive. Finally around noon, one of them did.

Leolin tore towards Felix when she saw him, leaping into his arms and making Draco—who'd been beside her—sneer as she and Felix tumbled to the ground.

"Finally," she said, smiling at him and eliciting a growl of annoyance from Draco as Felix laughed. "Thank Merlin."

"Leolin," he croaked, laughing. "Can't—breathe—"

"Sorry," she said almost sheepishly, scrambling off of him.

He struggled somewhat to his feet, and when he was finally vertical again, she hugged him fiercely . He cradled her head to his slim chest.

"You have no idea how good it is to see you," she said, brushing some hair out of his face.

He gave wry smile, touching her cheek.

"I missed you too, bichette."

"Chaisson," Draco interrupted in a flat tone, crossing his arms across his chest and giving an imperious eyebrow raise. "What an honour."

"Be nice," Leolin warned Draco as the men sized each other up.

"Then let go of him," Draco practically snapped, and she rolled her eyes, though she let her arms drop. Felix looked annoyed for her sake, but he said nothing.

"Malfoy," he replied in a tight voice. "How are you?"

"Better, now that you're done pawing my fiancée."

Leolin swatted at him, and he elegantly pushed her hand away, still eying Felix with palpable distain.

"Don't do it again."

"Draco!" she burst

"It's charming," Felix spit. "That you think you can tell me what to do. Or her, for that matter. She may have agreed to marry you, but she's not your toy."

"Talk to me about Leolin like that again," Draco challenged, taking a menacing step forward. "I dare you."

"Oh knock it off," Leolin said hotly before shooting Felix a sympathetic look. "Sorry, it's been a—long week."

Felix laughed.

"I would expect nothing less from him."

"Don't start with me, you slimy little vulpine."

Felix responded by shooting Leolin the kind of leer he'd often given her when they'd first met just for good measure, and Draco growled and started towards him. Leolin inserted herself between them and put a hand to Draco's chest, shoving him back even as she jammed an accusatory finger in Felix's face.

"Back off, Drake," she warned. "And you," she snarled at Felix. "Do that again and I'll kick your arse myself."

Felix held up his hands in sullen surrender, and she rolled her eyes.

"Was all that really necessary?" she demanded and they eyed each other like petulant adolescents.

"Ask him," Felix said, still unaccustomed to and slightly ill-at-ease with facing them together.

"That's _enough_ ," Leolin told him sternly. "I mean it."

There was more to be said certainly, but there was the distant pop fifty yards off, and voices echoing behind them. Blaise and Ginny reached them just as Giacomina approached, arm and arm with a skinny boy with curly hair and glasses. Leolin guessed they were the same age, though unlike Gia, he actually looked like a person who'd only recently exited his teens.

She'd changed her hair since the wedding, and instead of sleek and straight, two inches of her textured hair had been shaved away on the sides, and the rest was artfully styled into waist-length twists, half of which had been piled up of her head. The rest tumbled down her back. Her peridot eyes glittered as she looked at Blaise.

"Hey big brother," she said, though she made no move to let go of her companion or embrace him.

"Nice hair, G," Blaise said in a wry voice.

"Just because you and Lauren are ashamed of being black doesn't mean I have to be," she snapped smoothly.

Blaise glowered in annoyance—particularly at the jab at their mum—but Ginny ignored him and smiled at Gia.

"It's good to see you, Jaq," she said. "And I," she continued dutifully. "Love your hair."

"Thanks," Gia responded, tossing an errant twist over her shoulder. "So do I."

It was obvious from her tone that her opinion of Ginny was tepid at best. It was understandable, perhaps, that she was less than enthusiastic about sharing her brother, who—despite everything—she clearly adored, with another woman, but Ginny met her disinterest with grace.

"Who's your friend?" Draco interrupted, eying the boy with as much or more suspicion as Blaise.

"This is Brin," Gia offered noncommittally, smiling at him as he pushed a pair of horn-rimmed glasses up his nose in what felt like nervous gesture.

"Sam Brindisi," he elaborated, extending a hand but not seeming if he should be trying to shake Draco's hand or Blaise's. After a beat he let it drop awkwardly to his side instead. "I'm—"

"Akiva Brindisi's son," Leolin said. "He was on the Auror squad with James. You look just like him."

Akiva had left the force shortly after James, and sadly died of Dragon Pox two years later. Still, Leolin had heard his name enough times from his and James's misadventures as rookie Aurors, and there had been a picture of the two of them sitting on the mantle, grinning broadly, in James and Ariadne's flat. She hadn't been exaggerating; Sam was the spitting image of his father, down to the thick glasses and goofy hair.

"Yeah," Brin said gratefully. "Thanks."

"Oh stop _scowling_ , Blaise," Gia snapped, making Brin swallow. "He's just a friend."

"Good," Blaise bit back.

Gia gave an epically petulant eye-roll before seeming to notice Felix, wherein she smiled.

"And you are?" she asked in appreciation, clearly eager to annoy Blaise some more.

"Ten years too old for you," Draco said, giving Felix another ugly look.

"Maybe I like older men," Gia offered, flashing Felix a blinding smile. "I'm Gia, but my friends call me Jacqueline."

"This is Felix," Leolin said after he didn't immediately respond. Instead, he was trying to find a suitable place to look that wasn't Gia's dusky lips or her pert breasts which, though small, were on rather fantastic display.

"Pleasure," Felix said, clearing his throat.

"If you play your cards right it will be," Gia flirted, and Felix prudently looked down at his boots.

"Oh my days," Blaise growled, and Gia laughed, pleased at having irritated him so thoroughly. "We've been traveling all morning. Where's our room? We're going to take a nap before all the real fun starts."

" _Your_ room is in the East wing," Blaise said. "Your mousy little friend can take the one next to Ginny and me. There's even an adjoining door."

Gia rolled her eyes again.

"Simmer down, cave man, Brin's not interested in me. He's gay, in fact."

"I'm not gay!" Brin spluttered, flushing scarlet. Leolin could tell he wasn't, though it was fairly clear that Gia was wrong, and he was hopelessly and unrequitedly in love with her. Or perhaps she knew after all, and was choosing to ignore the fact. Either way, the attraction was markedly one-sided.

"Then hands to your fucking self," Blaise snapped, aiming a menacing finger in Brin's direction. "I mean it."

"Yes—ah—sir," Brin piped, and Ginny squeezed Blaise's arm.

"You've made your point, Z. Let the poor thing be."

Gia flashed Ginny a small smile before taking Brin's hand and dragging him past a still-scowling Blaise.

"Nice to meet you, Felix!" she called over his shoulder. "If you need me, I'll be in my bedroom."

As she flounced off, Blaise turned to give Felix a hard look instead.

"I didn't say anything!" Felix defended automatically. "Merlin."

"Leave him alone," Ginny agreed. "He barely even looked at her, and she's only doing it to bother you. If you don't react, she'll stop."

"I'm watching you," Blaise warned Felix, who rolled his own eyes.

"C'est vraiment des conneries," Felix muttered irritably. "I need a drink."

"I'll come with you," Leolin said, ignoring Draco's look as she looped an arm through his like Gia had done to Brin and accompanied him to the kitchen. They spent the next hour or so catching up, and when Felix also went to take a nap, Leolin decided to explore the Manor. Now that it was more populated, she began venturing into the rooms she'd never been, and there were admittedly dozens of them.

She finally settled on one nestled deep in the heart of the Abbey. It was a library of sorts, or a benediction room, a hexagonal space whose walls were adorned with ornate stained glass. Each featured a different figure, winged and powerful, and Leolin recognised the first immediately. She'd seen him a million times in art, his sword blazing and a slain dragon under his feet.

The archangel Michael. _Q_ _ui est Deus_ ; he who is like God.

On either side of him were two other angels Leolin was also familiar with. To his left was Gabriel, angel of revelation, who bore a lily in one hand and a lantern in the other. To Michael's right was Raphael, the healer, who proffered an ornate bottle. They were both angled towards Michael, showing him due deference.

Opposite Michael on the other side of the room was an angel Leolin had never seen, his figure mired in shadow and his eyes dark. _Samael_ , the scroll beneath his feet heralded. His obsidian wings were partially unfurled and rendered in shades of violet and onyx, and above him a scroll read, in Latin, "seductor, accusator, exterminatore". Leolin didn't read much Latin, but the message was clear. Samael: seducer, accuser, destroyer.

Like Michael, Samael was flanked by two lesser angels. One was labeled Oriphiel, _Daemones Magistrum._ She flicked her wander over the script to translate it, and the words rearranged into English. Master of Demons. The other was Raguel, who was heralded in English as "the Blindness of God"

Leolin looked between the darkened Samael and the blazing Michael, trying to make sense of it. They all wore slim, glittering diadems, even the crueler three, signifying that they were all, in fact, members of the Seraphim. Leolin had never heard of Samael, Oriphiel, or Raguel, but she knew the Abrahamic religions were rooted as much in the ideas cruelty and harsh justice as they were in those of redemption and salvation. All the Muggle religions seem to have their own manifestation of the duality of the Divine, whose mercy was tempered by brutal punishment.

It was, admittedly, an oddly dark subject for a place of contemplative solace, and a rather grand one for a dwelling of what were supposed to be simple, spartan-living men. Still, she supposed that they even they were not unaffected by the seductive power of terrifying things. It was human nature to be fascinated by that which was meant to be feared.

Dragging a velvet couch over, she sank onto it, studying the figure of Samael. The artist had managed to capture his fierceness with great poignancy, and despite the malice in his features, he was as much—if not more—beautiful than the other six Seraphs. Or maybe that was her imagination, or her bias. She had a certain weakness for dark things herself. Mentally she noted she ought to do some digging about the angels. She was sure there were several books on it in the abbey somewhere, and it would be nice to have something to think about besides the war.

"Congratulations. You have—as always—managed to find the creepiest room in the whole joint."

Leolin jumped at the intrusion before smirking.

"Stars, hide your fires," she quoted, scooting over so Draco could sink languidly down beside her. "Let not light see my black and deep desires."

Draco raised his eyebrows mirthfully, draping an arm over her shoulders.

"Poetic."

"It's Shakespeare."

"Oh right," he said sardonically. "The Squib."

She laughed.

"Don't be elitist, you pureblood snob."

He smirked to indicate he didn't consider this an insult in the slightest before casting a wary glance around the room. He wrinkled his nose before turning back to look at her.

"What the hell are you doing in here, anyways?" he asked

"I don't know. I just wanted to be alone."

"Bored of Chaisson already?" he said in a glib tone.

"Oh be nice," she chided, settling against his chest. "It's just—after having the place to ourselves, it suddenly feels crowded. Also, there is only so much of Seamus Finnegan I can take at a time."

"I'll drink to that," he laughed, glancing around at the windows again. "So who's this lot, then? And where's the bearded bloke? Seems like he's usually bloody everywhere."

"Who, Jesus? I think this is before his time, biblically speaking. This is the Heavenly Host. They're called the Seraphim."

"Sounds like a fancy word for angels," Draco pointed out in a bored voice, and she rolled her eyes.

"Well if you want to be boring about it."

They lapsed into silence as the Seraphim watched them.

"So besides Finnegan, any particular reason you're hiding all the way up here? I've been looking for you for a goddamn age."

"Not in front of the Heavenly Host, Drake," she tutted dryly. "And I told you. It was started to get crowded downstairs, and I wanted to get away for a bit."

He nodded, and she could tell he was trying to decide what he wanted to say next.

"At the risk of sharp rebuke, can I ask if you're alright?"

"I'm fine," she said. "Just restless. All this pent-up energy is driving me mad. Maybe I just need to go for a walk or something."

She rose to do just that when he grabbed her wrist, tugging her back onto the couch.

"You know," he began, giving her a piercing look as she fell naturally across his splayed quads and into his lap. "If you need a way to blow off steam, I can think of something that's a hell of a lot more fun than a walk."

" _Really?_ " she said in an over-exaggerated tone of excitement, eyes wide. "What?"

She began to gyrate her hips, and he gave a low sound that was half-laugh, half-groan.

"Don't be a smart ass," he growled, grabbing her hips and shifting them until she was directly positioned over his rapidly hardening member.

She gave a small mew of pleasure at his ministrations before taking her shirt off , allowing him to bury his face in her pillowy chest before urging him to take his off as well.

"Kiss me," she demanded, tugging his hair so sharply that he gave a throaty sound of pain-tinted pleasure.

He surged up and did as he was bid, exploring her mouth with his tongue, which tasted faintly like juniper. It was fresh on his breath, and it tasted good.

"Gin, Draco?" she said tugging at his lips with her teeth. "It's two in the afternoon."

"I never said I was perfect," he purred, turning his head to let her feast on his neck as he eyed the windows distrustfully again.

"I can't tell if it's hot that we're being watched, or freaky."

She hummed in satisfaction, working her hips as he unclasped her bra and lobbed it ten feet away.

"I like it," she confessed, biting her own lip as she unbuttoned the top button of his jeans before kissing his neck again, then his chest. He licked his lips and tipped his head back onto the couch, arching his back slightly. He clearly understood what she intended to do next.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

Leolin squealed in surprise and sprang up, covering her chest and blushing furiously. Felix stood with eyes dutifully shielded, though he was smirking, no doubted pleased with at having denied Draco a shag.

"Oh you fucking would," Draco snarled, trying to adjust what was now an almost full erection as Felix kicked Leolin's frilly bra to her, eyes still covered. "What do you want, Chaisson?"

"Someone's here for you, Lai," he said to Leolin in response, peeking through is fingers then dropping his hand when he realised she was dressed again.

"Who is it?" Leolin asking, slugging Felix hard in the arm as he mirthfully watched Draco adjust his jeans again.

"Borgia," he said finally, his expression more serious. "He's waiting in the Sacristy for you."

"Is he—" she paused, looking at Draco. "Alone?"

Felix clenched his jaw, looking almost guilty.

"Yes."

"Do you want me to go with you?" Draco asked, rising and touching her back, cheek against her ear.

She shook her head, turning to smooth his mussed hair away from his face. It was standing up in every direction.

"I need to do this alone," she said, brushing her hand down his chest. "C'mon, Ren."

He shot Draco a small but triumphant smile, making the latter growl.

"Get fucked, you little Weasel."

Leolin purposefully turned Felix towards the door.

"I'll be back in a bit," she assured Draco, and he raised his eyebrows.

"Good," he said in a frank tone. "Because I expect you to finish what you started."

Felix rolled his eyes tartly as Leolin flashed a weak smile at Draco before glancing around at the archangels a final time and following Felix out of the room.

"So is this how it's going to be with you two?" Felix asked in a dry tone. "I'm trying to decide if I should just gouge my eyes out now."

"Now's not the time," she said, cracking her neck to try and relieve some of the tension in her shoulders; it didn't work.

"I'm teasing you," he said, nudging her shoulder in a playful gesture.

"Well don't!" she snapped more harshly than she meant to.

He looked cowed, and she sighed.

"I'm sorry," she said finally, heaving a draining sigh. "I shouldn't have snapped at you."

He watched her with scrutiny, quickly reading her distress.

"I've heard them, too," he said in a soft voice. "The rumours about Severi—"

"They aren't true," she said automatically. "I know they're not."

He nodded but remained sagely silent, and when they approached the door, which was ajar, he stopped.

"I'll leave you to it, then," he said, and she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before entering and shutting the door behind her.

Xavier was standing with his back to her, but he turned when the lock clicked, and she had to fight down a yelp. There was a jagged scar running from the bottom of his chin to the top of his collarbone, and though it was healing, the edges were still a searing red.

He watched her keenly as she eyed the scar before opening his arms to her. She closed the short distance between them in several long strides, half-collapsing against his chest.

"Leolin" he croaked. His voice, which had once has been like expensive satin, was coarse, and his speech was slightly fractured.

"Your voice," she said, touching his shoulder, but he gave a cool smile.

"It's only one cord," he explained, gesturing to his voice box. She could hear it now. It was like a violin with one string missing. "No te preocupes."

"I'm so sorry," she said, and he shook his head, slipping back into insouciance.

"You saved my life, and I'm grateful."

She nodded and looked down at her shoes before looking back at him. She could tell he knew what she was going to say next, because his jaw tensed. Even now he was Severina's fiercest champion.

"Tell me it's not true," Leolin said in a quiet voice. "That it's just a lie to keep the Solarrii off-track. Tell me she's here with you."

"I can't," he admitted. "Because it is true. She's gone."

Leolin let out a defeated breath, touching her chest. He watched her intently.

"I begged her to see reason," he explained in a jagged whisper. "But she wouldn't listen. She was in a panic; even I couldn't talk her down."

"Where is she now?" Leolin demanded.

He considered, as if deciding if he could trust her. She furrowed her brow at the silent insinuation and he clenched his jaw again and looked away.

"Argentina. She, Belen, and the girls are staying with distant cousins of mine in the Andes."

Leolin's throat tightened. They were in the midst of a firefight, and Severina was seven thousand miles away lounging in a chalet eating alfajores.

"Have you spoken to her?"

His chilly indifference frayed slightly at the edges, and she could see pain in his dark eyes.

"She's my wife, tesoro."

Wordlessly Leolin extended a hand, and he tensed. Even alone he always seemed ready for a fight.

"Give it to me," Leolin demanded.

He didn't respond, and her lip curled. "I know you must have some way to reach her, and if she's going to betray me, she should at least have the couilles to admit it to my face."

For a moment he remained still, giving her a hard look she hadn't received from him since they'd first met. It was protective and almost feral, and it made her bones ache.

"Xavy, please," she said more quietly.

His expression softened, and he faded back into the man she knew, the one she trusted. Finally he relented, driving a hand into the interior pocket of his suit coat and producing a small compact. He opened it and tapped the glass with his wand, whereupon it began to ripple. He then retreated several paces towards the back of the room, as if not wanting to hear what was being said.

Finally Severina answered, her musical voice filled the space.

"Bonjourno, amore mia. I was just about to take the girls to—"

She froze when she realised who she was talking to, and her expression, which had been weary but generally neutral, faded to one of pain.

"Leolin."

Leolin shook her head, bearing white teeth.

"How _dare_ you," she hissed.

"Tesoro, please, let me—"

"Where the fuck do you get off?" Leolin demanded hotly, willing her voice not to quake. "Six months ago you burst into my flat and lectured me about responsibility, and now, at the very _first_ sign of trouble, you tuck tail and run?"

"There are responsibilities for me here, too, tesoro. Please, I have my _girls_ to worry about."

"No," Leolin said. "Don't you dare hide behind them. You think Adrian cares about three children? That he'd spare the manpower he'd need to hunt them down?"

"I can't take that risk," Severina said softly. She looked incredibly broken, so much so that Leolin hardly recognised her.

"You've _put_ them at risk by going with them! Lucius might not care that they've gone, but I guarantee he cares you have. If you think he won't look for you, you're wrong, and when he finds you, you'll lose everything."

Severina tossed her head back and forth, glossy hair shimmering almost blue in the sunlight.

"I can't leave them. Please, try to understand—"

"You promised, Sev," she whispered. "You promised me that you'd never leave my side, that I could always count on you. After everything we've been through, after everything I've done for your family, how could you break that promise?"

Severina bowed her head, pale and drawn.

"Answer me!" Leolin demanded.

"Because I know a lost cause when I see one!"

It felt like a knife in the back, so much so that Leolin's kidneys ached.

"What?"

Her mouth was dry.

"I'm sorry, mi amor, but it's true."

"No cause is lost if there are people still willing to fight for it," Leolin said through tears. " _You_ told me that! How can you be so afraid? You're a Borgia! You were chosen to inherit Cesare's wand. You faced down Audige!"

"We can't kill a god, tesoro!" Severina burst, eyes glittering with tears. "Please, you're meddling in things you don't understand."

"Meddling?" Leolin repeated contemptuously. "What choice do I have? This is my home; I have to stay and defend it!"

"No, come with me," Severina said automatically. "You'll be safe here."

"And leave Europe to burn?"

"You can't stop this, Leolin. No one can."

Leolin shook her head, feeling almost more lost than she'd been in five years.

"There was a time I thought you showed me what it meant to be brave, but I see know I was wrong. You're a fraud," Leolin whispered brokenly, a solitary tear sliding down her cheek. "And I hate you."

"Leolin—"

"You are dead to me, Severina Borgia, and if I ever see you again, I'll kill you. That's a promise, and unlike you, I _keep_ my promises."

She shut the compact smartly and shoved it against Xavier's chest.

"As long as you're a guest in this house," she warned, wiping her eyes. "I don't want to hear her name."

He ground his teeth together.

"Leolin, please—"

"I mean it," she warned, bursting out of the room into the Cloister and taking a deep, shuddering breath. Draco had been leaning on the wall waiting for her, and he straightened, eyes glittering.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked softly, watching her as she smoothed her hair back with a trembling hand.

She considered, not looking at him.

"No, I don't."

"I—"

"Leolin?" A voice called. "Everyone's here; it's time."

Ariadne stood at the other end of the corridor and Leolin was grateful for an excuse to get out from underneath Draco's penetrative gaze. She nodded, brushing past him and accepting her mother's hand. Draco continued to watch her with scrutiny, but he didn't speak, following them mutely to the chapter house where everyone else had already gathered.

The room was spartan, with fan-vaulted ceilings and roughly hewn stone benches carved into the wall, which were full with all the members of the new Order. Ariadne released Leolin's hand and went to sit next to James on the far side of the room. Leolin looked around, noting that even now it seemed like the Slytherins were on one side of the room and the Gryffindors were on the other. There were two empty seats next to Ginny and Blaise, and Leolin took one as Draco entered and took the other. They shared a quick glance before she broke contact by looking into her lap.

"Is this everyone, lapin?" Ariadne asked.

Leolin looked around. No, she wanted to say, it wasn't. She was still half-expecting to see Severina gliding in behind Xavier, who slipped in just after Draco and went to stand in the corner, arms folded. She bowed her head.

"Yes," she said quietly. "I think so."

"Shall we, then?" Tieran asked, standing. "If I could have the floor—"

He was interrupted by the door swinging open a final time, and at the sight of a white cloak, everyone was on their feet.

"How did you get in here?" James demanded, wand raised as Kelly stepped into the room looking drawn.

He'd changed, even in the few weeks since Leolin had seen him at the Manor. His hair was cut shorter and slicked down with pomade, and he wore a heavy signet ring on his right hand Leolin had never seen. His wedding band, she realised, was gone.

"I was invited," he said, unclasping a heavy gold pin that held the cloak in place before easing it off it off his shoulders. "Is my wife here?"

"I'm here," Cara breathed, leaping up and flying into his arms.

He buried his face in her hair as Cara began to sob, clutching the back of his dark shirt so tightly her knuckles had gone white.

James and Ariadne both shot Leolin a confused looks, and James had yet to sit, though he'd lowered his wand somewhat.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I should have told you last night. He's with us."

"What's the word, Troy?" Ron asked as Kelly adjusted the wand holster at his hip so he could sit down, Cara beside him.

Kelly took a deep breath. He looked like a man who bore the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"I've only just gotten leave," he said, sounding exhausted. "I don't know if you've noticed, but Pucey's been pretty busy as Warden of the City."

"Are you—alright?" Ginny asked delicately.

Kelly looked down at the pin in his hands, which had been tooled to resemble a bursting star.

"I'm fine," he said in a dull voice, avoiding everyone's stares. "I haven't—" he paused, clearing his throat. "My responsibilities are mostly clerical." He looked at Draco coldly. "Seems you're not the only person who thinks I'm weak."

Draco clenched his jaw in annoyance, clearly itching to return with something caustic, but Leolin squeezed his leg.

"What about the Minister?" Seamus piped.

"The Emperor, you mean," Tieran said gravely.

Everyone bristled at this, but it was Ron who spoke first.

"Oh you've got to be joking me," he said, giving Draco a dirty look for good measure. Draco sneered back, obviously annoyed at the insinuation that this was somehow his doing.

"You've seen the crown," Kelly said. "And he's got the whole continent in a vice grip. He's more than earned the title, believe me."

"Is that admiration I hear?" Draco said, teeth glittering as he bared them in an unbecoming sneer.

"Rich," Kelly shot back hotly. "Coming from the man's sole heir."

"What do you mean?" Pansy interrupted. "What about Regine and the baby?"

Kelly clenched his jaw and look at Cara for reassurance. Finally he spoke.

"She managed to slip out during the chaos at the wedding. They've only just brought her back."

"Are they alright?" Hermione asked.

Kelly looked at his highly polished boots.

"She's dead," he admitted quietly. "She must have seen the writing on the wall and she—" he paused, shooting Draco an almost sympathetic glance. "She killed herself. They found her body floating in the Rhine."

"And Lucia?"

Kelly looked down again and shook his head.

"I'm sorry."

Leolin touched Draco's back, and he tensed. Still, she didn't let her hand drop.

"Why?" Blaise said. "Why would she do that?"

Kelly didn't speak.

"What is it, KT?" Oliver prompted. "Tell us."

"Look," Kelly snapped, running a hand over his tamed curls. "I don't know much. I'm not part of the inner sanctum. I've only heard rumours."

"Tell us," Harry insisted, and Kelly sighed, stealing another look at Draco and making the latter bristle.

"Lucius is still testing his powers. I don't know anything about them beyond that they're—otherwordly."

"Okay," Seamus cut in somewhat impatiently. "And?"

"From what I've gathered, if he wants to truly harness them, he's going to need a terrestrial anchor."

"I don't understand," Ieaun confessed, but Draco cut him off.

"He needs the blood of a sire," he said dully. "To stabilise the vessel. It's why he had Lucia."

"So then he'll be back to gunning after you," Oliver pointed out.

"Isn't he always?" Draco said, voice bitter

"If that's what he's after," Harry said. "We should keep his eye focused elsewhere until we can find out more about where he got those powers. What's going on on the continent?"

Tieran shook his head.

"Italy's lost. Germany, Bulgaria, and Poland have all formally joined the Empire, and France is holding out, but only barely, and only by the grace of the IAO."

"What about Spain?" Grace asked, and everyone looked at Xavier, who was still sulking in the corner. He shook his head.

"Quite a valiant effort your people put up, Borgia," Seamus taunted foolishly.

"Sí, we should have been more like The United Kingdom," Xavier sneered, lip curling. "Oh wait, that's right; all four of you rolled over within an evening."

It was the first time he'd addressed the group, and Leolin watched everyone react to the scar and his ruined voice. Part of her wanted to defend him, but the truth was that she was still blindingly furious about what had happened with Severina. Besides, Xavier wasn't one to need defending, anyhow.

"France is going to be the final frontier," Harry said. "We should move our base and focus our efforts there."

"No," Hermione said. "First we should help Reagan Sharpe and the others. It's the right thing to do."

"We can't take the risk," Oliver pointed out. "And if France falls, the entire continent is under Solarrii control."

"So we leave them to rot?" Ginny demanded. "We have to look out for our own!"

"We are," Seamus said. "But this isn't our problem. I realise it's unfortunate, but the bottom line is that it's not our fault that Brankovitch put his trust in the wrong person."

Here he somewhat foolishly glanced at Draco, who bared his teeth again.

"And what about Reagan?" Ieaun said. "She did as we asked, and now she's in trouble. We can't just leave her."

"We don't even know if they're still alive," Harry pointed out.

Here everyone turned to Kelly, who clenched his jaw.

"They killed Annalysse Blake the minute we got back to the Manor after the Embassy," he admitted softly. "But Brank and the rest of them are still alive."

"Then we have to go after them," Leolin said resolutely.

"Maybe," Xavier said. "But we have to get out of The Empire's backyard first. For once I'm with the Scot; we should make our stand in France. After that we can decide what we ought to do about Brankovitch and Sharpe."

Leolin felt another searing stab of annoyance and betrayal.

"It's too much of a gamble," Felix argued. "If it doesn't pay off, we could get stuck there, or caught."

"Oh, and you don't think we will be sneaking into the Manor?" Blaise said. "Besides, we all know why you want to go. I'm not risking my neck so you can get your nob wet with Sharpe."

"Blaise!" Ginny snapped. "Don't be so callous. This is her life we're talking about!"

"I'm with Felix; we have to do this," Leolin reasserted.

"Who are you to decide that?" Seamus asked.

"I'm more qualified than you, certainly," Leolin shot back, standing. "You've done fuck all since this started."

"I have just as much a seat at this table as you do," he said, colour in his cheeks rising as he lumbered up.

She sneered, knowing how much she must have looked like Draco in that moment. However, because she could reply, Draco himself cut it.

"Oh sod off," he said almost lazily, twirling his menacing wand through his fingers. "You don't and we all know it."

"Look," Harry said, on his feet now, too. "I know this is tough, but we have to prioritise. Defending France has to come before rescuing hostages."

"Even if it costs them their lives?" Leolin demanded. "Some Gryff you are."

"This is war, Lai," Harry pointed out. "We have to make tough choices."

"Fine, go then," Leolin said bitter. "Ren and I work better alone, anyhow."

"Absolutely not," Draco said, immediately sitting up more fully now.

Leolin gave him a hard look.

"You're honestly telling me you think we should to go to France?"

He met her glower with a stony expression of his own.

"I'm tell you that you're the last person we'd let go to the Manor. If that means sending you to France for a time, so be it."

"I'm not going," she said. "And good luck if you think you can make me."

"Is that a challenge?" he demanded peevishly, dwarfing her by rising to his full height.

"Yes," she snapped. "Feeling lucky?"

"Leolin," Ariadne entreated, speaking for the first time. However, Leolin ignored her.

"I can't believe I'm going to say this, but listen to Malfoy, Lai," Harry said. "It's for your own good."

"I'll decide that for myself, thanks," Leolin said, feeling particularly tense when she realised Xavier was watching her too, silently agreeing with the others.

"Enough!" Tieran snapped, "We need to make a decision."

"We have to go to France," Oliver said firmly. "We need to stem the tide."

"Who died and made you emperor?" Ginny said in a cutting tone, and his gaze hardened.

"Enough," Kelly said. "What we really need is a leader. You think Adrian's crew bickers like this? They don't, because when he gives an order, it's obeyed."

"Two weeks a Solarrii and already toeing the party line," Draco drawled. "My father must be so proud."

"No, he's right," Hermione said. "Those who love peace must learn to organise as effectively as those who love war."

Ron looked at her in bemused admiration.

"Who said that?" he asked.

"Martin Luther King, Jr.," Gia said, eying Hermione with renewed interest. "He was a Muggle at the forefront of the American Civil Rights movement around the midcentury, and he essentially gave black Southerners their voice back."

Kelly, stood and drew his wand, transfiguring the gilt cloak pin he's been holding from a star into a phoenix before sending it floating into the middle of the room. It rotated slowly, and it glinted even in the low light of the room.

"We need a leader," he repeated. "And then we need a course of action."

"It should be Harry," Seamus said at once. "He's the one who defeated You-Know-Who last time."

"Not to split hairs," Draco said in thinly-veiled derision. "But technically that was my father. Maybe we ought to just elect him."

"Take this seriously," Pansy snapped.

"I agree with Seamus," Oliver said. "I say Harry."

"No, it should be Leolin," Felix said, standing. "Who got us the coins?"

"And who lost them?" Dean Thomas pointed out, though there was no malice in his tone.

"That wasn't her fault," Ginny said automatically.

"Then who's was it?" Grace asked. Leolin looked at her sharply, and she flushed. "I'm sorry, Leolin, but it's true."

"That's not the point," Felix defended. "Who knows how much time she bought us with everything she did. She's the only one with the experience and expertise to pull this off."

"What do you know about covert ops or leading people into battle?"

"How do you seriously not know the answer to that by now?" Felix asked, visibly irritated.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione asked.

Felix and Leolin exchanged a glance and she sighed.

"I'm La Genie du Mal," she said finally, and everyone's expression changed. "So, to answer your question, I pretty much know everything there is to know about running covert ops. As for leading, I was the head of a major crime syndicate; I know what it means to make real choices; the kind that have real consequences."

"Excuse me?" Ariadne said, sounding—despite the grave circumstance—every bit the disapproving parent.

"Sorry, Mum," she said almost sheepishly.

"Nevermind that," Ginny said. "The point is that she knows what she's about, and that all that matters. Besides, she has bigger bollocks than all of you. She faced down Guilliarme Audige alone and unarmed, and she didn't balk."

"I agree."

The all turned to look at Xavier, whose eyes flashed.

"I don't want to see you do this, cariño," he said. "But I also know it has to be you."

"Absolutely not," Draco said now.

"And I suppose you think it ought to be you," Oliver said.

"Hardly," Draco spit. "It would be like herding cats."

"Then why shouldn't it be Leolin?" Felix said.

"Because I'm her fiancée," Draco snapped. "And I forbid it."

"Oh brother," Ron grumbled. "Here we sodding go."

"You are not her keeper," Kelly pointed out, and Draco gave him a look that would have soured milk.

"The Hell I'm not."

"I'm with Drake," Blaise said firmly. "Adrian's already after her."

"Then who better?" Tieran pointed out. "Borgia's right. She knows this world better than anyone. It doesn't matter what we do in the short term if we can't find a way to shut the Minister—Emperor, whatever—down. If we can't, we'll lose this war."

"Let's put it to a vote, then," Kelly said. "Red for Potter, green of Lefevre, just like old times."

At once, Draco drew his wand and flourished it, and a small sliver of scarlet smoke burst from it, hanging in the air, making his vote. Xavier and Felix repeated the gesture immediately, but their smoke was emerald instead of red. Clenching his jaw, Kelly did the same.

Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Oliver followed Draco's lead and voted for Harry, as did Grace and Blaise. Gia was next, meeting Blaise's stern expression with one of her own as she shot green sparks from her wand before elbowing Brin in the ribs, urging him to copy her. Ginny did the same.

Next Cara drew her wand, giving Leolin a soft, almost pleading look.

"I'm doing this for you," she whispered, sending her own red signal into the air.

After her Hermione drew her wand and cast her vote for Harry, as did Nikki and Angelina, neither of who had spoken a word. After a second of contemplation George Weasley send up a red plume as well, and he too gave Leolin an almost sympathetic look.

After George was Pansy and Tieran, as well as Ieaun and Luke, all of whom voted for Leolin. After a moment Harry drew his wand.

"For the record," he breathed. "I think everyone is right; this time around, it isn't my fight. But we have to do what's right, even if it isn't easy."

He flourished his wand, and a wisp of scarlet burst forward.

Leolin watched breathleslly as James and Ariadne, the only two who'd yet to vote, exchanged a glance. Finally James drew his wand resolutely, sending a jet of emerald into the air without a word. They were dead even know, and everyone watched Ariadne, breathless. Her hands were trembling, and she paused to wipe a tear from her cheek before flourishing her wand. Leolin didn't know whether to laugh or cry when a small issuance of green smoke frothed from the tip.

"Et tu, Ari?" Draco said quietly.

"Fourteen to Thirteen," Kelly said. "Leolin, it's you."

She could feel Draco's pleading gaze on her, and she avoided it, clenching her jaw to stave off he aching felling that had begun to swell in her chest and up her throat. Abruptly he stood, shaking his head in what felt like disgust before casting a last searing look at Leolin and striding out, slamming the door soundly behind him.

"Leolin?" Kelly asked when he was gone, she stood, approaching the pin where it continued to rotate but making no move to take it. "You don't have to do this, if you don't want," he pointed out.

"No," Leolin said, touching to pin and causing it to fall out of orbit and into her hand. "I'll do it."

At this everyone stood, even those like Seamus, who did so rather begrudgingly. She straightened, struggling not to sag under the weight of their gazes. She glanced down at the pin to avoid looking anyone in the eye as she let out a shaky breath. However, after a second she vanished the pin into her cache and straightened.

"We're going to the Manor as soon as it can be arranged," she announced. "We reconvene in three days for preparations. Use that time to put your affairs in order; after this, you'll need leave to come and go."

No one spoke, and she had to admit that despite anything else, it was a nice reprieve from the usual back-biting. Still, if ever she'd imagined a moment like this, it had been with Draco and Severina at her side, and it felt somewhat hollow without them.

"As you were," she said finally, not stopping to meet anyone's individual gaze as she followed Draco's path out of the room.

It didn't take her long to find him. He stood with his back to her, eyes cast out to the dark lake which bordered the property. He didn't turn at her approach, but Rodames—who'd been sitting beside him—did, and he padded happily over to her, sniffing at her legs and hands in search of an ear scratch.

Leolin advanced on him in silence, only reaching to touch Draco's back when she was close enough.

"Drake, talk to me," she implored, and he whirled on her, eyes hard.

"Are you going to accept?" he asked in a steely voice.

She considered before looking down.

"I already have," she admitted, and he turned back to the lake, shoulders pinched.

"Then what is there to talk about?"

She let out a stale breath, settling in for what she knew was going to be a bitter struggle.

"Why are you being like this?" she snapped finally, patience draining like blood from a wound. "Why can't you just be happy for me?"

"Happy?" he repeated, whirling on her. "Leolin, this isn't a bleeding game!"

"I know that!"

"No," he almost pleaded, though his eyes were still hard. "You don't. You don't know anything! If you did, you wouldn't be this gleeful."

"I am not _gleeful_ ," she said hotly. "But I'm not going to shy away from my responsibility."

"How can you be so naive?" he demanded. "You don't know the first thing about war, and now you're going to go off and play toy soldier just because Troy dared you to?"

"Oh of course," she said with a bitter laugh. "Because it wouldn't be a proper fight if you didn't accuse me of somehow wanting Kelly at least once."

He gritted this teeth.

"Then tell me you don't."

"Get over yourself," she snapped. "I'm not going to defend how I feel, least of all to you. This has nothing to do with Kelly and you know it."

He clenched his jaw.

"You're being childish."

"And you're being cruel!" she said. "Was Finnegan right about you? Are you jealous?"

"You can't be serious," he scoffed.

"Then what is your fucking problem?" she said.

He growled, drive a hand into his hair as he so often did. When he turned back his expression had softened.

"Leolin, you're my responsibility; it's my job to protect you from Adrian. How can I do that when you go running into his arms? He's _waiting_ for you for to storm the Manor; please tell me you see that."

He reached out to touch her, but she brushed his hand away.

"Stop talking down to me like I'm stupid or weak. I know how to handle myself; you of all people should know that."

"Handle yourself?" He repeated with contempt. "You can't be serious. The last time you went toe-to-toe with him, he nearly choked the life out of you. The time before that he killed Sweeney and took the coins, and the time before that, he stripped you naked and beat you senseless. When are you going to realise you're no match for him?"

She flushed. His cutting reply made the wound from Severina's words burn all the worse, and for a moment she was afraid she'd be physically sick.

"Leolin," he said more gently, reaching to touch her cheek. "I'm sorry. It's just—you're my everything; please, don't ask me to stand by and watch you put yourself in harm's way."

"Then love me as I am!" she pleaded, covering his hand with his own. "For _who_ I am! For what I have to do and who I have to be."

His eyebrows tightened even as his expression deadened, and she could tell he was getting ready to say something incredible painful. Still, even knowing it, what he said next hurt like a punch in the chest.

"I can't," he grit out, hand falling away from her face. "Not if it means losing you forever."

She squeezed her eyes shut. Ariadne always said that anger was only ever a mask for something else, something deeper, and she was right. Still, the anger surged over the hurt like a wave over a breaker, and Leolin pushed him away.

"I'm trying to protect you," he continued in the same soft, searing tone. "Why won't you just let me?"

"Because you can't protect me from everything!" she burst in a low snarl. "If you could, I'd still be able to have children."

He stopped as if she'd reached into his chest and ripped his heart from its strings, and all the blood drained out of his features until his face was white as parchment. Her hands went to her mouth.

"Drake," she croaked immediately. "I didn't mean that."

She reached to touch him and he recoiled, looking at her almost as if she were a stranger. His expression was hollow, and it stung worse than the distain he'd shown her when she'd first returned from Florence.

"Drake—"

"Well at least now I know the truth," he said in a broken voice.

"Please," she begged. "I didn't meant to say that."

His face crumpled in pain.

"That isn't the same as not meaning it at all."

"I didn't mean it!" she pleaded.

"Then give the pin to Potter," he said, hurt roiled in his voice. " _Please_."

She took a shuddering breath, looking down.

"I can't," she said finally. "I'm sorry."

He shook his head in anguish, and she reached for him, desperate to touch him even as he as seemed to slip through her fingers, like sand through a sieve.

"Draco—"

He disappeared in a nasty crack, tearing a sob she hadn't realised she'd been holding down from her throat. She tried to keep herself composed, but the first sob was quickly followed by a second and a third, and she covered her eyes, trying to fight being subsumed by her grievous mistake.

"Leolin!"

She didn't turn as Felix approached, focusing on keeping the hysteria down instead. The effort of it made her bones ache.

"Are you alright?" he asked with concern, brows furrowed. "Where's Malfoy?"

"Gone," she said, letting out another shuddering sob. "I don't know where."

"What happened? Parle moi, bichette."

She looked down, scrunching her nose as tears fell into the frosted grass.

"I can't," she said tightly.

"Why not?" he said. "You know I'm on your side bichette, toujours."

She shook her head.

"I know," she said. "But it's not fair to Draco, and I've treated him badly enough already."

"He's not exactly the arbiter of fairness himself," he pointed out in mild derision, and she shook her head.

"He's my fiancée, Ren. I can't run to you with all our secrets every time we fight; it's not fair to him."

"I'm not trying to get between you," Felix assured her.

"I know," she said through tears. "But we have to start working through things on our own. And I—" She couldn't bring herself to admit how frightened she was that what they had, she'd just destroyed. "I'm sorry."

He nodded his acceptance—though clearly not his understanding—before turning away. He knew her well enough to see that he ought not to touch her.

"Goodnight then, Général. You know where to find me if you change your mind."

She nodded, wiping at more tears as he retreated. When he was gone, she sunk to in the freezing grass.

Finally she took a deep breath, conjuring the pin again and turning it over in her palm. It was heavier than it appeared, though perhaps no more so than she'd expected. She considered what it had likely just cost her, and it suddenly felt so heavy that her back ached, as if it's weight was crushing her spine, crippling her, killing her.

She had no option to fail now; the realisation was more painful than even seemed possible. If she did, she'd just sold away her happiness for nothing.


	4. Chapter 4: La Cage Aux Folles

Sorry for the delay (as always) feel free to start a kickstarter so I can quit my job and write full time! (#lifegoals) However, I SWEAR that my next chapter is actually half written so hopefully it will be less of a wait! Also, highly recommended checking out **Diana Damrau's rendition of the Queen of the Night aria** for reference. It will become clear why as you read. As always, please enjoy and—though I realise I probably don't deserve it at this point—review!

 **Chapter Five: La Cage Et Folles**

Gen lay on her back in the dim cell, staring at the ceiling with an unfocused gaze. She was unsure now how long she'd been here—she'd lost count around day five or six—but by now she did know one thing: Draco was not coming to get her. After all, he had what he wanted now, didn't he? He had Leolin. Besides, it wasn't as if Gen had expected him to, given what she'd done, but some dark part of her had hoped.

The backs of her eyes ached as she thought about it, shame welling behind them. It her desperate solitude, she'd had nothing but time to think of all the wrongs she'd done Leolin, and it was enough to make her sick to her stomach.

Her father had once told her, in the depths of his despair over losing her mother, that to love was to destroy, and to be loved was to be the one destroyed. She'd let it glance off her at the time, not wanting it to be true, and when she'd met Draco, she'd been wholly convinced it wasn't.

It ached now to know her father been right. Love had sparked in her blindness and depravity, and in her desperation to cling to Draco, , she'd nearly destroyed him. And not just him, but Max as well, who'd always been the one person who'd loved her just as she was.

Perhaps worst of all, she'd played a small but willing role in Lucius's rise to power, and whatever blood he spilt would be on her hands. She was going to die, she knew that now, and all she could think about as she tried to face that fact, to conquer it, was that she had to find some way to set things right before she did.

"Beauchene," a voice said, slicing through the darkness. "You've been summoned by the Lord Protector. Get up."

She didn't move, a gesture that was only meekly defiant. She hadn't eaten anything in days, and only the nourishment spells they'd been using had kept her alive. Still, they left her exhausted and weak.

"No," Gen croaked. "You can't make me go."

"You know I can. Please, get up."

Gen turned her head to see Montague's wife peering through the bars. She was fresh faced even through her strain, and her hazel eyes shone.

"Please," she said again. "Don't make me Imperius you."

"Go ahead," Gen said, curling away so her back was to the girl.

"Please," she said a third time. "Adrian will be furious; he'll punish you."

"Let him," Gen said.

"You're not the only one he'll punish," the girl replied.

At this, Gen felt an icy shard of fear slithering down her spine. She hadn't seen Max since she'd arrived, but she'd heard his screams through the stone walls. She squeezed her eyes shut.

"Please, Genevieve," the girl urged. "Stand up."

Gen did as she was told, pitching as dizziness washed over her. The girl—Astoria, Gen finally remembered her name was—opened the door and grabbed Gen at the waist to steady her. However, before Gen could even begin to conceive of a way to try and overpower or evade her, Astoria drew her wand and muttered a spell, a pair of silvery manacles bursting from the tip and biting down on Gen's wrists.

She also blindfolded Gen, tugging her by the elbow along. Gen was still in the tatters of her wedding gown, and she tripped on it several times as Astoria led her through the labyrinth of the Manor. Gen tried to remember the path they took, but several times it seemed as if they'd gone in a butterfly loop, and after the third or fourth one, she'd lost track. The floor beneath her feet yielded from damp stone to marble and finally to plush carpet, and ten minutes later they'd stopped.

She heard Astoria knock on a door, her hand still clamped at Gen's elbow.

"My Lord?" she called.

Gen could hear movement in the room beyond.

"Come in, Astoria," a familiar voice replied, and Gen bit her lip, resisting as she heard the door swing in. However, Astoria was stronger than she looked, and she tugged Gen inside despite her unwillingness before pulling the blindfold off.

The room was sumptuously appointed, the walls and the four poster draped in a rich violet silk, a complement to the mahogany furniture. They was a half naked woman sleeping in the tangle of satin sheets on the bed, and seeing her sleek, dark hair and well-curved frame made Gen feel sick. There was little doubt who she was meant to resemble.

Adrian stood at the far end of the room in front of a mirror, flanked on either side by servant girls who seemed to be helping him dress. He wore black trousers tucked into riding boots, but he'd yet to put on a shirt. There was something about his outfit that seemed to speak of a different era, but somehow, instead of feeling like a costume or a gimmick, it suited him.

He would a slim gold chain around his neck Gen had never seen before, and the medallion which hung on it resembled a bursting star contained in a circle. It looked good against his tan skin and the swirling back ink of the tattoo that adorned his chest and shoulder.

"It took you long enough," he said in a clipped tone as he turned, shrugging into the shirt one of the servants held out for him. It was a slim fitting white oxford that seemed more modern than his trousers, though it bore a mandarin collar in place of the usual tab one that reminded Gen of a Victorian gentlemen. He was sleek and preening, bathing in the glow of self-satisfaction, his cheeks slightly flushed and his gilt eyes glittering.

"Forgive me, my Lord," Astoria said in polite submission, inclining her head.

"The Emperor doesn't like to be kept waiting," Adrian said in a clipped tone. "And neither do I."

"Forgive me," Astoria said again, averting her eyes in what felt like practiced deference as he unbuttoned the trousers to tuck in the hem of his shirt. The action exposed the flat plane of his lower abdomen, and the dark briefs he wore sat so low that Gen could see where the ridges of his stomach muscles gave way to a flat, smooth skin. She looked away, ashamed, only to find he was watching her.

"I see you still haven't learned not to stare," Adrian said in a sardonic tone, batting one of the girl's hands away as he did up to buttons himself. "Bring her to me."

When she was close enough he grabbed her chin, turning her head and surveying her.

"She's practically a skeleton," he said to Astoria in annoyance.

"Forgive me, my Lord—"

"Save it," he said. "Just get her cleaned up. I don't want her to offend his majesty with that smell."

"A bath, then?" Astoria asked, and Gen felt her heart stutter. It had been ages since she'd properly bathed.

"There isn't time. The Lady Octavia is eager to see her. Just vanish the dirt and change her clothes."

He glanced dispassionately down at Gen's filthy dress.

"And put her in something with a high neckline. I don't want to have to look at her breastbone all night."

Astoria nodded. Adrian was fully dressed now, and he accepted a slim gold bracelet from one of the girls beside him and a matching signet ring from the other.

"Right," he said, giving himself an approving glance in the mirror before turning. "Astoria, come with me. You," he snapped his finger at one of the girls. "Get Beauchene ready and take her downstairs. I want her there in ten minutes."

Astoria shot Gen an almost sympathetic look before glancing down, careful not to meet Adrian's gaze. The servant still stood at attention, but she hadn't moved yet.

Adrian pursed his lip and gave a quick, low whistle at her, like a falconer calling his pet.

"Today, Rashima," he snapped, and Gen began to struggle as the girl clamped a firm hand on her elbow.

"No please," Gen said, and Adrian turned. She shrank away from him, no longer struggling, but it was too late. He raised his right hand and struck her hard with the back of it, driving her to the ground. She gave a whimper of pain as he stood over her.

"I told you it would hurt," Adrian said in a jaguar's growl. "Now get up before I give you another."

Astoria moved to help her, but Adrian held up a hand and she froze. His eyes glittered with cruel satisfaction as Gen struggled to her feet. She was still weak, and his blow had dazed her. When she'd finally managed it, he met her gaze.

"If only Draco were here to see you now."

Gen winced as if he'd struck her again and he drank in her expression, gorged on her pain. He then jerked his head to Astoria and turned to the door.

"And Diana," he cast over his shoulder as Rashima grabbed Gen again."Get rid of the girl."

Diana, who Gen suspected was Rashima's sister given their resemblance, crossed to the bed and shook the sleeping girl as Rashima pulled Gen from the room.

"Come along," Rashima said in an even voice, shoving Gen into a room and stripping off the tatters of her wedding dress; the last remnants of her shattered former life. How different would things have been, if she'd let Draco go when she'd had the chance? It was a suffocating thought, and she pushed it down with a shudder as Rashima drew her wand.

"Please," Gen said as Rashima cast a spell the magicked the dirt and grime from Gen's skin and hair, making it fall around her in a revolting pile that Rashima vanished. "Don't do this."

"It's not up to me," Rashima said. "I answer to the Lord Protector, not you."

She seemed to be avoiding looking at Gen directly as she crossed to a closet and drew out an unadorned black gown with long sleeves and a high neckline. It was just the sort of thing Gen would have chosen for herself, were things different. They weren't though, she reminded herself. They never would be again. The thought kneaded a growing mania in her chest, and she felt fear and panic being dredged up with it.

" _Please,_ " she said. "You know what Luc—what the Emperor will do to me."

"And what do you suppose he would do to me if I helped you?" Rashima asked. "Besides, it's pointless; you'd never make it out of the palace even if I did."

The palace, Gen thought in horror. Not the Manor, the palace. Now, alongside the panic and fear, was a mounting desperation.

"You could kill me," Gen said in a soft voice. At this, Rashima stopped what she was doing to look at Gen. "Please," Gen whispered, feeling more manic than ever. "Kill me."

Rashima considered her, and like Astoria, her gaze was not unkind.

"Your life's not mine to take," she said finally, going back to fastening the pearl buttons at Gen's wrists. Like the clothing Adrian had worn, the dress had an air of antiquity to it, like something worn in a bygone age. "It belongs to the Emperor now."

Rashima crossed to the dresser, pretending not to see the tears in Gen's eyes as she rummaged through a jewelry box. She drew out a pair of heavy gold earrings and pressed them into Gen's ears before coaxing her hair up into a chignon and inspecting her. She pinched Gen's hollow cheeks to give them colour before clenching her jaw.

"It will have to do," she said to herself before taking Gen by the arm again. She didn't bother to blindfold Gen as she tugged her, still barefoot, through the halls.

Too soon they were standing in front of a pair of gilt bronze doors adorned with twenty quadrafoil panels depicting gods and angels. Gen shuddered; these hadn't been here the last time she'd been in this room.

Two men in white cloaks stood at attention, not deigning to look at the women as they approached. Rashima's jaw clenched as she surveyed the great doors, which stood nearly ten feet, and it was the most emotion she'd shown all evening. It made Gen's eyes sting.

"It's time," Rashima said, nodding to the sentries before turning to give Gen a steady, solemn look. "Good luck."

Gen fumbled for words, but by this time the doors were swinging open, and Rashima was ushering her into the light of the room beyond even as Gen shied away from it. However, before she could even think to flee from it, the doors boomed shut behind her, and she was trapped.

She turned slowly, lip trembling. The room looked completely different than it had the day of the wedding, transformed from a whimsical Rococo ballroom to a glittering banquet hall. The marble ornamentation had been stripped away from the walls and replaced by silk banners bearing the star sigil Adrian had worn, and the columns, chandeliers, and furniture were all bathed in gold. It even spidered through the veins of the marble floor.

The room was almost lurid in its splendour, and it spoke of hedonism and vice. The benches which flanked the centre aisle were smattered with richly dressed attendees, and Gen felt as if she'd stepped into the court of a dark fairytale. They all watched her with keen interest, and she looked down to avoid the central point of light in the space, which sat atop a gilt throne.

Lucius no longer glowed the way he had before, but the diadem on his brow still emanated an aura which seemed to project light. All the age had melted from his face, and he was more god than man. Beside him sat a beautiful woman who, beside her dark cascade of hair, seemed to share the more human features of his face. His sister Octavia, Gen surmised, though the look that passed between them as Octavia leaned over to whisper in his ear was anything but familial. Lucius's teeth gleamed as he smiled at her, and the gesture was salacious enough to turn Gen's stomach. Octavia seemed every bit the Empress seated beside her brother, and she even had a glittering tiara of gold and rubies wound into her half bound hair.

"Come, child," she said, rising and beckoning Gen. "Don't be shy."

Gen shrank almost instinctually away from her, even knowing the gesture was futile. If she didn't go, they had more than enough ways to compel her.

She slunk forward, ignoring the cold snickers as she went. At this she straightened a little, clinging to what remained of her shredded pride.

"You must be Genevieve. Draco has good taste," she announced to no one in particular. "She's _very_ pretty. Don't you think, brother?"

She turned back to Lucius as if seeking his approval, and he gave a smile, the inhumane beauty of which made the hair at Gen's nape stand up. It was liking staring into the eye of a hurricane.

"Hmm," he purred, voice sonorous and somehow musical. "More or less than the last one, do you think?"

Octavia gave Gen a pitying half frown.

"Oh less," she said, as if it pained her to admit it. "Definitely less. Leolin is a crown jewel, I'm afraid. I'm sure your Lord Protector would agree."

Adrian, who sat a short ways off, a goblet in his hand, gave a genteel incline of his head.

"Far be it from me to contradict you, my Lady," he said, and Octavia laughed. It was a sound like fingers dancing across the top keys of a piano.

"Indeed. Well come closer, child," she said, turning back to Gen. "Let me look at you."

Gen did as she was bid, flinching when Octavia ran a pale hand down her cheek.

"Yes, very lovely," Octavia murmured. "But so thin! Like a little bird. The poor thing looks like she hasn't eaten in days."

Her voice was warm, but Gen could hear the mockery beneath it, even above the groans of pain in her stomach at the mention of real food.

"I'm told," Octavia continued, retreating back to her seat beside Lucius. "That you've been classically trained as a coloratura soprano. Is that true, my little mourning dove?"

"Yes," Gen said, voice small.

"Do you know Die Zauberflöte? I've always loved the Queen of the Night's second aria. Why don't you sing it for us?"

"Oh no," Gen began at once. "I couldn—"

"I'm afraid I must insist," Octavia said, a sneer tugging at her lip. "Or perhaps you'd like to perform _without_ your lovely gown on."

"No!" Gen said, folding herself into her own embrace and shrinking down like a beaten dog.

"Go on, then," Octavia urged in a voice that was quickly bleeding politeness. "Dazzle us."

"But I haven't—" Gen protested again, aware now on how dry her throat and mouth were. She hadn't had water since the day before, and even then it'd been barely a glass full.

"Brother?"

Lucius snapped two long fingers, and pain exploded up Gen's diaphram and throat as the music was wrenched, unbidden, from her chest.

"Der Hölle Rache kocht in meinem Herzen, Tod und Verzweiflung flammet um mich her!"

The aria was forcing it's way out of her, and the power with which it was expelled knocked the wind out of her like a blow to the solar plexis. She clung bitterly to the melody as it soldiered on, trying to catch her breath even as the words were wrung from her mind.

 _The vengeance of Hell boils in my heart, Death and despair flame about me!_

Despite her exhaustion and lack of warm-up, her voice was clear, tight, and strong, and it filled the echoing chamber the way the aria had been written to fill an opera hall. When she reached the straining refrain, it danced lightly across the witch's curse, piercing the air with malice Gen was sure emanated from something other than herself.

It was a violation that Gen couldn't have imagined, to feel as if she was being controlled by outside forces. She felt the strength leaving her as she reached the final line, the witch's parting curse that her daughter destroy her lover or perish herself, and she collapsed to the floor, panting. No one applauded as she feared they might, but a murmur went through the crowd.

" _Very_ impressive, Genevieve," Octavia purred, trading another unnatural glance with her brother. "I'd like to see Leolin do better."

At her mention, Gen screwed her eyes shut, not wanting to imagine what cruel performance they'd demand from Leolin had she been there as well. Not that it would have been hard to guess.

"When what do you think, my love?" Octavia said to Lucius, basking in his resplendent gaze as he turned to survey her again. He leaned in slightly as if he meant to kiss her, but after a moment he turned to Genevieve instead.

"Agreed," he said, and the desire had yet to bleed completely from his gaze, making Gen feel sick. "Should we give your little bird a treat? She did sing for her supper."

He snapped his fingers, and a gilt dinner plate appeared on his upturned palm. He offered it to a serving boy who'd appeared at his shoulder, and he immediately retreated to fill it with food. Gen's eyes and mouth both watered as he loaded it with potatoes, succulent roast, grapes, and a heel of fresh bread.

Before Gen could stand to receive it, he set it down on the floor in front of her, as if she were a dog.

"Eat, my little nightingale," Octavia cooed. "You must be hungry."

Gen stomach growled so loudly that she was afraid everyone heard it, and she picked up the bread and took a bite. It was warm and salty, and it took every last scrap of her pride and Southern manners not to cram the whole thing in her mouth.

"And wine," Octavia said, watching her take another dainty nimble. "Give the poor thing some wine. Perhaps if we whet her tongue, she can sharpen it enough to say something clever."

At this a cool mirth swept through the group, and Gen kept her eyes down as she picked up a wedge of golden potato and took a drink from the proffered goblet.

"Let's keep her," Octavia said, continuing to survey Gen with cold amusement, the way a breeder might eye a purebred bitch. "I think with a little more meat on her bones she'll make a lovely ornament. At least," she paused, turning her head again to meet Adrian's eye. "Until we can find something even more fine to take her place."

"She's yours," Lucius said in lazy amusement, nimble fingers dancing up Octavia's slim neck to touch the ruby chandelier earring that hung nearly to her collarbone. Octavia purred in contentment and leaned into his touch.

Gen hunched farther forward over her plate to avoid watching them. For a moment she imagined how pathetic she must seem, but somehow she couldn't bring herself to care. The aria had dragged the last of the fight from her, and she'd become no more than their creature now. To pretend she was otherwise was fancy she no longer had the strength to uphold.

As she continued to eat, the door of the hall swung open, and Victoria Thivierge strode up the centre aisle looking pleased. She wasn't dressed for dinner like the rest of Lucius's court, wearing dark fighting gear instead, a white mantle draped over her birdlike shoulders and clasped with with gold pin in the shape of a bursting star. Adrian was on his feet as she approached, sliding gracefully off the dais he'd been seated on to slink towards her and receive her news. This seemed to please Victoria as well, her teeth glinting as she bent her head back to whisper in Adrian's ear.

A rictus grin splintered his handsome face in two, eyes glittering as he turned back to Lucius.

"If it pleases you, your majesty, I have a gift for you."

Lucius smiled.

"We always welcome gifts, don't we, my love?"

Octavia's expression mirrored his own.

"Of course."

Adrian nodded to two more figures who must have entered with Victoria, and they tugged the doors in to admit Tate Rawle, yanking a struggling scrap of a man by the collar.

Tate seemed unconcerned by the man's flailing, feeble though it was, and he dragged him up the centre aisle before depositing him at the base of the dais, where he laid, cowering.

He was barely recognizable through his filthy, matted beard and hair, his characteristic expression of oily self-satisfaction stripped down to bare horror. Or maybe that was just the hollows at his temples and cheeks from where'd he'd lost weight, sinking his dark eyes into his skull like boots into fresh mud.

"James," Lucius said, rising to his feet. "How flattering you should join us again at last. Where have you been?"

Jaime Quinn tucked his chin to his shoulder in answer, as if somehow convinced that if he shrunk down enough, he could disappear entirely.

"His majesty asked you a question," Tate said, driving a gleaming boot into Jaime's side and making me squeal. "Answer him."

Jaime gave a soft whining sound that was half protest, half bumbling excuse, and Tate kicked him again.

"Get him to his feet," Lucius said, descending the stairs so he could look Jaime in the eye.

Tate and Adrian tugged him up, and his mumbling increased to a steady torrent of unintelligible pleas.

"Enough!" Lucius snapped with a small flourish, and Jaime ceased is babbling. In fact, he began to gag as if was choking on something, and after a moment he heaved, a pink wriggling mass falling from his slack lips onto the floor. Gen felt a hot wave of nausea threaten her dinner as she realised it was his tongue.

Jaime gave a soft moan before falling silent.

"That's better," Lucius remarked.

"My Lord," Adrian said, seeming mildly stricken himself. The colour had evacuated his cheeks, his skin tinged green instead. "I thought you might—"

"Want to question him?" Lucius supplied, still surveying Jaime with enmity. "One can never trust the word of a traitor. I'd rather he be a lesson. This man," he said, his voice raising to unearthly volume and tone again. "Is a coward. On the night of our glorious revolution, he fled the palace, thinking perhaps he could escape his punishment for consorting with a traitorous bitch. Let him be a reminder that there is _no_ hiding from me."

Jaime was wailing again, trying—Gen suspected—to plead his case even without the ability to do so.

"Get him on his knees," Lucius ordered as Adrian and Tate drove him down again. "It's time my subjects see what Samael's given me."

"But my Lord," Adrian protested, brow creased. "The last time you—"

"Enough," Lucius said, aura growing cold and jagged, like the first streak of lightning in a storm. "Get him down."

Jaime thrashed in protest, but Lucius pressed a glowing hand to his chest, tearing out a sound that chilled Gen's bones. It hadn't come from Jaime's throat, but from something primal inside him begging for mercy. Jaime went slack as Lucius withdrew his fist, a ball of gleaming energy clutched in it. Tipping his head back, he let it slide down his throat.

Everyone watched, breathless, as it seemed to emanate through him, and though he too had paled beneath his glow, he remained upright. Gen watched the muscles in Adrian's neck and chest release as Lucius gave a grim smile.

"Let it be known," Lucius said as Tate and Adrian released Jaime's body to the marble with a swishing thud. "That if you betray me, I won't just kill you; I will rip out your magic."

Gen's blood went cold as felt herself being submerged, inch by inch, into artic despair, knowing she couldn't give up just yet; she had to find a way to warn Draco first.

* * *

Leolin took a sharp, clean inhale as her left fist swung down in a savage left hook. She connected with her target before bobbing to avoid a blow to the head. However, her opponent took advantage of her lowered hands and struck her squarely in the solar plexus, knocking the breath out of her.

"Viene, Tesoro," Xavier said as she jabbed again. "Alza le mani."

Leolin did as she was instructed and raised her fists to protect her face, but when she kicked out at him, they dropped again, and quick as a snake he struck at her, popping her none-too-lightly in the cheekbone. She stumbled back several paces.

"Focus, Leolin," Xavier chided. "You need to keep your arms up, or Pucey is going to break that beautiful nose."

At the mention of Adrian she stiffened, slipping out of her fighting stance and retreating for a towel and a swallow of water.

The three days she'd given the others to set their affairs in order was up, and even as they trickled in that morning, Draco hadn't been among them. She knew, after the savage blow she'd dealt him in their fight over the badge, that he'd need space, but there was no point in denying she hadn't expected it would go on this long. Every second he was gone seemed to eat away at her, and she'd thrown herself into training with Xavier, practicing for hours until she was too tired to do anything but collapse into fitful sleep. Still, even the fighting wasn't enough to keep the guilt at bay, and it weighed her down.

"What's going on?" Xavier said. "You seem distracted."

Leolin began unwinding the wraps protecting her knuckles, avoiding Xavier's obsidean stare.

"Nothing," she said.

"Bugiarda," he said in a mild tone.

"I'm not lying," she replied. "I just have a lot on my mind."

"Anything in particular?" he pressed. Like Ginny and Severina, he knew when she was evading. She didn't answer, and he clenched his jaw.

"How long has it been?" he asked.

"Been since what?" she said, wiping her face to hide poorly-feigned ignorance.

"Since you've spoken to Malfoy."

She took an inhale that was much less steady than she would have liked.

"Four days. He took off after the council meeting and hasn't been back since. Or at least if he has, I haven't seen him."

"Io vedo," Xavier said in a sage but guarded tone.

"How do you do it?" Leolin asked finally. "How do you—" she paused, not even sure how to articulate what she was asking. "—without her?"

Something dark and pained shadowed Xavier's expression, and he crossed his arms.

"I don't," he said. "Every day without her and my girls I die a little more inside."

Leolin bowed her head.

"I know it's not what you want me to say, Tesoro, but it's true."

"I—" Leolin choked. "I fucked up, Xavy. I said something terrible to Draco I didn't mean, and I'm afraid I may have lost him."

He considered but didn't try to reassure her, and it stung. Xavier had never been one to contradict the truth.

Leolin pressed on, no longer able to keep it all in.

"I assumed by now he would—that _we_ —but we haven't. We havent't fought for this long in ages, and I don't know what to do."

"Put it out of your mind," Xavier counseled in a serious tone. "Focus on what's in front of you. It's the only way."

"What if I lose him?" Leolin said, half to herself.

Xavier's jaw tightened.

"You will go on. What other choice do you have? This cause needs you, Leolin. You have to try and remember that no matter what happens."

Leolin felt an acerbic bitterness on her tongue, tempted to point out that when Severina had faced the same challenge, she'd backed away from it without a fight.

"But I am sorry, Tesoro. I know this isn't easy for you."

"No, it isn't," she admitted, crossing to her jacket, which she'd slung over the forgotten pool table. Her skin was still warm, but outside the temperature had begun to drop as fall faded into hard winter. It was still rainy season, but Leolin could tell the first frost wasn't far off. "But I have to face the consequences of my actions."

"Keep the faith," he told her. "Nothing is settled yet."

She nodded, and he touched her cheek, the pain she felt reflected in his expression.

"See you later?" she said, and he nodded, conjuring a free-standing punching bag and beginning to strike it with fury.

Leolin watched him for a moment before ascending the stairs out of the makeshift training room—which had once been a billiards lounge—and into the chilly mid-morning air.

It stung her skin, wicking the sweat on her face and chest like a razor scraping the skin. Not enough to break the surface, but enough to prickle uncomfortably. She took in a lungful and crossed her arms, surveying the empty courtyard.

When the Order members had first arrived at the abbey it had felt crowded—claustrophobic, even—but now that they were gone, it suddenly felt desolate.

She drew out a pack of fags and sank onto a chilled stone bench. It was a nasty habit, she knew, but in Draco's absence she'd taken it up again, much to Ariadne's chagrin. It was a convenient excuse to be alone, and it felt good to have something other than her relationship to hate herself for.

At the soft pop of apparation at the far end of the cloister she looked up, dropping the still burning cigarette as her face brightened.

"Drake," she breathed, ignoring the sinking pit forming at his uneasy expression. "You're back."

She felt him tense ever so slightly as she approached, his mouth a hard line.

"I was told we had orders to return," he said simply, making no move to close the distance between them. The sinews of Leolin's heart slackened, and she felt it sizzling in the hot acid of her stomach.

"Oh," was all she said.

He studied her for a moment longer before nodding curtly and turning to go. Leolin bit her lip before making a decision and bounding forward to catch up with him.

"I know you're still angry with me," she said without preamble, swinging in front of him and blocking his path. "I don't blame you. I know what I said was—"

"I'm not," he interrupted.

"Oh," she repeated stupidly.

His jaw clenched as if he meant to speak, but eventually he readjusted the bag on his shoulder and said nothing.

"I should unpack," he told her finally. "I'll see you this afternoon."

He attempted to skirt her, but she blocked his path again.

"Wait," she said, hearing the pleading edge sliding into her tone. "Can we talk?"

He considered this request dispassionately.

"I'm not sure what there is left to say," he admitted after a beat.

"Then at least look at me," she said. "Please. Drake, it's been three days."

He clenched his jaw again, his eyes dragging to her face as if unwilling to do so. However, after a moment of studying her his insouciance softened, and he even reached out to touch her cheek.

She put her palm over his, cradling his hand there as her eyes slipped closed. It was all she'd been able to think about the last 72 hours: being near him, feeling him touch her. She had begun to fear he'd never do it again.

"Drake," she said. "I'm so, so sorry. My anger got the better of me and I—"

At this he tugged his hand away, expression shutting like a door in her face.

"I didn't mean it," Leolin continued in desperation. "And if I could take it back, I would."

"That's the thing," Draco said. "You can't take something like that back, Leolin. Not ever."

"Drake—" she pleaded, but she could feel him slipping away from her, both physically and emotionally.

"I'll see you this afternoon," he repeated in a hollow voice, stepping out of her reach. "Until then, please don't follow me."

"Drake!"

It was useless; he was already striding away, and after ten years, she knew better than to follow him. She slumped down onto the ground, resting her head back on the partitioned wall that perforated the garden and the ambulatory walkway that bordered the cloister. His footsteps echoed, growing softer with every stride, and she watched him, dismay swelling up with the increasing urge to cry.

She bit her lip to stave the feeling off, thinking back to what Xavier said. He had, as always, been right. This was the path she'd chosen, and no one had ever said it would be easy, or that it wouldn't grow lonely. Still, people were counting on her now, and she knew she'd only feel worse if she let the people she'd promised to protect down. Besides, perhaps Xavier had been right too in saying that things between her and Draco were not yet permanent, and despite how permanent they'd felt watching him walking away from her, she wasn't ready to give up on that either.

Drawing the cigarettes from her pocket again, she slipped one between her lips, lit it with the tip of her wand, and took a hearty drag.

* * *

The sun was already melting from overhead by the time Leolin arrived to the monk's old chapter house, which they'd since repurposed as the primary meeting place of The Order.

The spartan stone benches lining the walls had been padded with cushions for the meetings of the Order-at-Large, when all the members assembled to discuss and—on occasion—vote on important issues, as they had earlier in the week. However, it was too large a space to suitably accommodate the Closed Council, and a round oak table had been brought in so the 11 of them could all see and hear one another more comfortably.

Kelly was already seated in one of the high-backed chairs when Leolin entered, Felix at her elbow and Xavier trailing behind.

"General," he said in greeting, standing and giving her, despite everything, a wry smile.

"Please don't call me that," she said, crossing to pour herself a glass of wine. Her nerves were positively frayed, and she needed something to relieve the slight tremor in her hands from the excess of nicotine in her system.

"Yes sir," Kelly said, retaking his seat.

Xavier gave him a wintery look.

"You're in a good mood, Troy," he observed, seeming annoyed about it.

He was right; Kelly looked, if not happy, more at ease than he had been.

"Is that a problem?" Kelly asked in a flat but cordial tone.

"There _is_ a war on," Felix said, though he seemed less bothered than bemused.

Kelly, tactful as ever, didn't reply, but his cheeks had a healthy flush they hadn't several days before. It wasn't hard to guess why.

"How is Cara?" Leolin asked, finally slipping into her own chair. Felix was already settled at her left, Ginny's as-yet unfilled seat to her right. "Happy to have you back, I bet."

Kelly exhaled, and Leolin could see a smile sparkling in his eyes. It was the happiest Leolin had seen him in ages.

"It's been the best three days," he admitted. "I can't believe I have to—" he broke off, looking down at the snow white cloak on the table in disgust. "—tonight," he finished.

"It's temporary," Leolin said. "I promise."

Kelly met her eye, and while there was a great deal of _toska_ in his gaze, there was no apprehension or fear.

"I know," was all he said, and Leolin took another healthy swallow of wine to avoid having to say more.

As she rose to fill her glass, Blaise and Ginny emerged hand in hand, smiling faintly at one another. This, too, seemed to irritate Xavier, though he had the good sense not to antagonise Ginny in front of Leolin, the same way Blaise wouldn't have dared antagonise Severina, had she been there.

"What did we miss?" Ginny asked, easing in her chair next to Leolin and rubbing her swollen stomach. She was weeks away from her due date, and she admittedly looked ready to pop.

"Nothing yet," Leolin said, ignoring the growing pit. Somehow she'd expected that Ginny and Blaise wouldn't arrive alone.

"Who are we missing?" Blaise asked, as if in answer to her thoughts. "I see a lot of empty chairs."

"My mum and James went to France the day before yesterday to see what they could find out about the resistance there," Leolin explained. "And Harry is arranging safe houses for all the ministry officials on Adrian's list. I also want to hold a seat for Brankovitch when he comes back." She exchanged a glance with Felix. "I think we owe him that, after everything he's done for us."

"So we're just waiting on—"

"Yes," Leolin said before Blaise could finish, making a show of arranging the stack of parchment to avoid having to meet anyone's eye.

"So he's back?" Ginny asked, and Leolin watched her and Blaise glance at each other in silent conference.

Leolin got up to fill her glass again. She knew she should stop before she got tipsy, but if anyone was thinking the same, they had the good sense not to point it out.

"He got here this morning," Leolin said with an air of flippancy.

"And now he's...?" Kelly prompted in a gentle voice. "Lai, I have to be back by the time the sun sets."

"I know," she snapped before taking a steadying breath. "And you will be. I promise."

"Then should we get started?" Felix said. "We can fill Malfoy in later if—"

He didn't finish, because the double doors swung open as Draco strode in, looking bored to the brink of petulant. So much so, in fact, that he reminded Leolin of the arrogant, broken seventeen year old she'd first fallen in love with. His gaze moved to flick over Leolin but snagged, and for second his mask of indifference slipped to reveal the wretched pain underneath, though Leolin was sure she was the only one who could see it.

They both seemed incapable of looking away, but after a moment he was spared from looking at her anymore when Felix rose from his chair in a silent invitation for Draco to take his place. Draco responded with a condescending sneer before choosing the chair farthest from Leolin. Instead of sitting in it properly, he perched on it's back, boots on the seat to suggest he didn't intend to stay all that long.

Kelly and Felix exchanged an annoyed look, but Leolin pretended not to notice.

"You know why we're here," she said without preamble when they'd all settled. "We're going to the Manor."

"When?" Ginny said.

"As soon as we can. It's been over a week already; we can't afford to wait any longer."

"We at least need to wait for a proper opening," Blaise said. "We still don't know exactly what Lucius is capable of, and I doubt any of us would make it out alive if he catches us."

At this, Ginny tensed, and Blaise strung a comforting arm across the back of her chair.

"He'll be gone at the next full moon," Kelly said. "I have no idea why, but I overheard Adrian and Tate Rawle discussing it."

"That's three weeks from now," Felix pointed out. "Can we really afford to wait that long?"

"We don't have a choice," Draco said in a clipped tone, speaking for the first time.

"Draco's right," Leolin said. "And we need to make sure we plan this properly. I intend to be in and out before Adrian even knows we've been there. But before we get to that, I want to say something. I don't expect any of you to come just because you're on this council." She could see everyone begin to protest, but she held up a hand. "I just mean that this is going to be dangerous, and I want everyone to go in with eyes open. You need to have a choice, and I'm telling you that you do; all of you."

She broke off. She didn't need to mention what had happened the last time she'd asked someone to break into the Manor; she knew they were all thinking it already.

"I'm not afraid to die," Xavier said first, brows furrowed.

"Neither am I," Felix said. "And anyways, I don't think it will come to that."

Blaise and Ginny were in silent conference again, and there was a latent plea in her eyes. However, Blaise clenched his jaw and turned to Leolin.

"So am I."

"I'll help any way I can," Kelly promised.

At this everyone turned to look at Draco, whose expression had grown dark.

"I'd never miss an opportunity to go home."

"Okay," Leolin said, taking a breath. "So here's the plan."

She explained about the wedding and the Juturna statue, producing maps of the grounds and possible escape roots through the old vineyard or even the lake, if necessary. When she finished, everyone looked grim.

"The dungeons aren't as heavily guarded as you'd expect," Kelly said finally. "There is a regular patrol every hour, but other than that, they leave the prisoners in their cells. The only snag could be—" He swallowed, and everyone waited for him to continue. "I've never been to the revels, but I've heard that Lucius's sister Octavia is partial to—human entertainment."

"But if Lucius is out of the Manor, won't they be on higher alert on the main floors?" Xavier asked.

"Yes," Kelly said. "And I can stir up whispers among the Solarrii of a possible Order raid in London that night. That will force the majority of them out on patrol."

"Alright," Leolin said, feeling a small swell of calm temporarily abating the fear. "Then it's settled. We'll make a more specific plan when Harry comes back, but for now this is what you're going with."

"How are we getting to Wiltshire?" Blaise asked. "It's not like we can just apparate onto the grounds, and surely Lucius is having Salisbury and Tilshead watched."

"I have a contact in Keynsham who's been keeping an eye out," Leolin said. "It's small and far enough out that the Solarrii haven't come calling. We'll leave from there."

"On what?" Xavier asked.

"Thestrals. Gin, I know your brother is tied up keeping the dragons out of Solarrii hands, but if he can get away, I have a job for him. I have a breeder in Wales who leant us Thestrals before, but I need someone to see them to Keynsham safely. My contact there has agreed to keep an eye on them, but I can't ask him to—"

"I'll go," Draco interrupted, and they all looked up at him. He'd been auspiciously silent up to that point, and Leolin's cheeks flooded with blood-tinted shame at his utterance.

"But your place is here," she said in a meek voice after a moment.

Draco met her gaze for this first time since he'd come in, and the glittering chill in them made her flush deepen. Everyone was looking away now, which was somehow more humiliating than being gawked at.

"Only if you order it to be," he said.

Leolin's chest tightened like a portcullis being drawn closed, and she had to fend out the mounting urge to take a deep, panicky breath.

"Alright," she said finally, hands trembling as she sorted through her parchment to find the envelope stamped with her Praetor's seal.

He pretended not to notice her slight tremor, sliding off his chair like a constrictor from a tree as he crossed to accept it.

"When do I leave?" he asked. There was none of the characteristic acridity in his tone, and emptiness in it was more painful than vitriol would have been.

Draco's emotions ran hot and high, the barriers between pleasure, anger, and pain seeming almost malleable to Leolin. To hear his voice so flat seemed to say he felt nothing at all.

She cleared her throat.

"Tomorrow morning," she said. "I want to get this settled as soon as possible."

Draco nodded, accepting the envelope from her and tucking it into an interior pocket of his blazer before turning without ceremony towards the door.

He made to leave, but Felix called out.

"Leolin hasn't dismissed you yet."

The muscles in his shoulders and lats tensed the way they always did when he was preparing for a fight, and he whirled, his eyes hateful as he drank Felix in. When they slid to Leolin, the anger frosted over with a sheen of something more dangerous, as if daring her to demand he stay.

She looked down to compose herself before crafting a more neutral expression.

"You can go," she said.

Draco didn't reply, just slammed Felix hard in the shoulder with his own as he strode out.

"What was all that about?" Blaise asked when he'd gone.

"Nothing," Leolin said. "Let it go."

"Okay," Ginny said. "But Lai—"

"I said drop it," Leolin burst. "That's an order."

Ginny looked dazed, as if Leolin had slapped her in the face. It was the first time Leolin had given a directive like that.

"Blaise," she said. "Go get Gia and Brin. I want them training every day with Xavier. They need to be ready to fight. You too, Gin. Kelly, Hermione Granger has a communication device for you. She's in the library, please get it from her before you go. Felix, you're with me."

They all looked a little stunned, as if finally seeing her in the light her position at last.

"Lai—" Ginny said finally, but Leolin cut her off.

"No," she said in a firm voice. "I—" she paused, voice a little hoarse. "Please, just do as I've asked."

She stood and everyone copied her, and she nodded her dismissal before all but fleeing the room.

Despite her directive, Felix seemed to sense he wasn't actually meant to follow her, and she wandered the grounds aimlessly for a bit before retreating back to the room with the angel glass. She felt continually drawn there, and only in part because it was a place she knew she wouldn't be disturbed. She stayed through sundown and well past dinner, retreating to her room around nine or ten.

She'd hoped, against all evidence to the contrary, that Draco would be there, and she let out a shaky breath when he wasn't, though Rodames was.

He gave a huff as she flopped onto the bed, even shuffling away slightly when she reached to pet him.

"You're angry with me too, are you?" she demanded. "Figures."

Rodames only gave another indistinct nose of haughty displeasure before slinking to the bottom of the bed and resettling out of her reach. Leolin sighed and sat up, gathering her maps of the Manor and beginning to work. This was most dangerous heist she'd ever attempted, and with only weeks and without Sweeney and Effie to help her, she knew it was imperative she focus.

However, the reality of that fact proved more difficult than the mere concept of it. It wasn't as if she hadn't known, that night on the beach, how savagely she'd hurt Draco, but she'd been desperate—militant, even—in her belief that he would eventually cool down enough to know she hadn't meant what she'd said and forgive her.

She could see now how misguided and selfish that notion had been. The dark side of love was the ability to inflict pain, and that was perhaps the worst part, that she'd let her frustration and fear harden into a knife she'd driven right into the place Draco was most vulnerable. How could she really expect him to forgive her after that? She wasn't sure she could, if their places had been reversed and he'd said something similar to her.

Leolin drove her nails into her palms to dam the tears. If she started now, she didn't know if she could make herself stop, and she couldn't afford to be a weeping mess when there was so much on the line. She pressed farther and felt herself break skin, blood welling up. She imagined, as it dripped onto the snowy duvet, that she was leeching the bad humours the way Muggle Doctors always did in Victorian novels, and it was oddly carthartic. The pain seemed to clear her mind, if only a little, and she likely would have kept going if there hadn't been a knock at the door.

"Ren, is that you?" she called. "It's open."

The door creaked inward, and at seeing who it was, Leolin sprang up, pressing her palms together behind her back to hide the damage, though—judging by his expression—not very well.

"Drake," she said, but he ignored her, studying her ruined hands.

"Are you alright?" he asked, eyes moving from her to the duvet, which was now flecked with blood.

"Fine," she said quickly. "I just—cut myself accidentally." She shoved her hands behind her back like a child caught in the act of stealing candy or smearing paint on the walls. "Looks worse than it is."

Exasperation glinted in his eyes to indicate he didn't believe her, followed by a flicker of protective yearning than made her throat ache again. However, in the end he said nothing.

After a beat of charged silence he gave a brusque nod and turned to the bureau, grabbing a small duffle bag and beginning to shove clothes in it without ceremony.

"Wait, where are you going?" she asked in a horror she didn't have the energy to cover up. "You're not due in Wales until tomorrow."

I know my orders," he said in a steely voice, not pausing what he was doing.

A panic swelled up as he continued to work, and when he shouldered the bag, she sprang almost instinctually in front of the door, blocking his way.

"You can't just leave!"

His eyes flashed, and he dropped the bag as his shoulders pinched back, the way they always did when he was settling in for an argument.

"Are you seriously going to pull rank on me right now?" he demanded.

"No," she said, shrinking down a little in defeat. "I just meant that we should talk."

"Leolin," he said, and it sounded odd on his tongue, as if it were the name of a stranger he found both odd and unappealing. "Don't do this. Please."

"I could say the same to you!" she said, desperation cresting. "Drake, I'm begging you. Stay. Let's work this out."

She reached to touch him and he recoiled, like a vampire away from sunlight.

"I haven't forgiven you," he said, and her head dropped, leaden. "I—I'm not even sure how to."

She nodded, biting her lip.

"I know," she said, reaching for him again. "But if you could just—"

"Please," he said, grabbing her wrist to keep her from making contact. "Don't."

"Drake," she begged. "I didn't mean what I said. You _have_ to believe that."

His expression softened slightly at the edges, and his brows synched together, but upwards in a gesture of pain rather than in one of anger.

"I want to," he admitted, fingers light on her wrist now as he searched her face. "So badly."

"It's the truth," she said, aching to get closer to him even knowing she ought to stay where she was. "Believe me."

This seemed to snap something inside him, and his fingers fell away from her.

"How can I?" he asked in a voice like broken prayer. "Because you were right; it is my fault."

"No, Drake—"

"And I can't look at you right now without feeling guilty."

"You have nothing to feel guilty for!"

"How could I not?" he burst. "Merlin, I feel so guilty that I can barely be in the same room with you without wanting to be sick! Every time I look at you, all I can see is my failure, and what it cost you."

"You didn't cost me anything I wouldn't gladly give up to be with you," she pleaded. "And you're wrong; if it wasn't for you, I would have died in New Orleans."

"If it wasn't for me," he said. "You never would have been in New Orleans at all. Why can't you see that all we've ever done is cause each other pain?"

She felt all the color drain from her face.

"What are you saying?" she asked, voice trembling.

"I—" he broke off, shaking his head. "I need time away from you, from us."

"Time for what?" she demanded.

"I don't know," he said in resignation, bending to retrieve his bag again as she melted from the door to the edge of the bed. "To figure out what I'm going to do."

"How long?" she asked.

"I—" he looked down. "I don't know." she squeezed her eyes shut as he stood, studying her. Finally he cleared his throat. "I'll be in touch as soon as I make contact with the breeder."

"You told me the night before the wedding you'd forgive me anything," she said in a quiet voice, and he turned.

"I know," he admitted after a long pause. "But I can't deny how I feel, even if I want to. Even," he paused again. "for you."

There was such longing in the way that he said it that she felt a final surge of hope, and she rose to her feet again.

"I love you," she pleaded, and he clenched his jaw, as if the words had a bitter taste.

"Look for my owl," was all he said in return, and she nodded, biting her lip as she forced out a nod, though she could no longer keep from crying, and she was forced to screw her eyes shut to stem their flow.

He surveyed her more openly now that he was unobserved, even raising a hand to brush the tears from her cheeks. However, a pain like an improperly swallowed sword bloomed in his throat along with a hot wave of nausea, and eventually he relented and let his hand drop.

She must have been holding her breath, because as he turned she gave a shuddering whimper, and it was nearly enough to rend him in two. However, instead of heeding his every instinct and turning back to her, he fell first into the chasm that seemed to be opening up before him by striding through the door and letting it fall shut behind him. He listened in dull anguish as she dissolved into full-blown sobs, the sounds of which haunted him all the way back into the belly of the abbey below.

* * *

Attributions:

As one of my lovely readers recently pointed out in some amazing constructive crit, I occasion borrow quotes from other places, and I've been terrible about attributing them to their original source. I suppose I figured they would be understood as deliberate call-outs, but I realise now that not everyone shares the same points of reference, and I don't want to take credit for beautiful phrases that aren't mine. From now on I'll be including attributions at the end of each chapter.

"To love is to destroy, and to be loved is to be the one destroyed." —Cassandra Clare, _The Mortal Instruments: City of Bones_ (Though Clare was actually booted off this site for plagiarism before this book was published, so anyone's guess as to whether this is her concept either. Still, I digress.)

"Quickly, bring me a beaker of wine, so that I may wet my mind and say something clever." —Aristophanes.


	5. Chapter 5: Brave All Hasten

A/N: and y'all thought last chapter was angsty...just you fucking wait (Henry Higgins). Also, this chapter is DARK AS HELL. I mean, seriously, it was hard to write, but somehow I feel it had to be done. I hope it's not too painful. :/

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Brave All Hasten**

* * *

The twenty-three day wait for the full moon to rise again had been a dreadfully slow march for Leolin, and without Draco to lean on or confide in, they had felt like some of the longest days of her life.

He'd continued to avoid her even after he'd returned from Wales, always seeming to disappear from any room as soon as she arrived and keeping odd hours to minimise having to see her at meals or during training. At first it had been almost unbearable, but as she'd waited, heartsick, for him to reconsider, her hurt had gradually calcified, growing wintery and bitter. In the days leading up to the battle, she'd practically accepted that far from a temporary distance, what stretched between them was a chasm she had no prayer at ever crossing. Only the hopeless romantic in her (or perhaps the blind optimist) still believed they had a future together.

In miles of the hurt and anger that seemed to separate them, she found herself tallying all the wrongs he'd ever done her, resurrecting old ghosts she'd thought she'd long since put to rest.

Inciting her to cheat on Kelly. Giving Gen the necklace so like her own, even if Gen had never worn it after the morning he'd first given it to her. Walking away from her in Atlanta, and after Sweeney's death.

He'd returned from each of these transgressions with a plaintive explanation of all the ways he'd been wrong, and how he hadn't meant it, and she'd accepted each one with grace. But now, in the face of his refusal to do the same for her, she found herself questioning their love as well.

"Good," Leolin said as she watched Gia cast a jelly-leg jinx at Brin that he only barely managed to deflect. Leolin, Xavier, Ginny, and Blaise were assembled in the training room, watching Gia and Brin spar, as they so often did these days. "Now press your advantage."

Gia did as she was instructed and cast another, and Brin wobbled as she hit him in the right knee.

"Good, you've brought him down, now go for his wand," Ginny said as Brin fell to one knee, swearing under his breath.

However, he was able to block Gia's disarm even as he muttered the counter-curse to the jelly-legs, and he sprung to his feet again, circling her. It was obvious he'd inherited some skills from his father, and he and Gia were more or less evenly matched, and—to Leolin's grim pleasure—a fair side better than Adrian's average dueler. However, Brin always seemed hesitant to attack Gia, and it was hardly difficult to guess why.

"Are you planning on going this easy on every beautiful woman you go up against?" a new voice asked from the doorway as he continued to circle and deflect. "Because if so, Astoria Montague is going to rip you to bloody ribbons. Or my aunt Octavia, for that matter."

"Drake," Gia said in satisfaction as Draco's eyes slid from Brin to give her an encouraging wink. Leolin tried not to react even as Gia did, face brightening as Draco shrugged out of his coat and came to join Blaise and Ginny against the mirror at the front of the room.

He'd taken on the role of Gia's specific tutor, and she seemed to be flourishing under his machinations. Leolin couldn't ignore the way Gia responded to Draco's instruction in way she didn't to Leolin's, Xavier's, or even Blaise's, nor was she immune to the way Gia looked at Draco as if he was both the sun and the North star. What was worse, everyone else seemed to have noticed it, too—no one less so than Blaise—and the cool looks he'd started shooting Draco made Leolin's stomach ache.

"More wrist flick, Jac," Blaise cut in, prowling around the pair with arms crossed before casually stopping in a position that put Draco out of Gia's sightline.

"And that's too much flourish, both of you," Xavier added from where he was leaning on the far wall, twirling the silver compact through deft fingers. "You are going to get caught in a gesture and killed. Brindisi, you also need to anticipate better, and Malfoy is right; focus. Distraction in a fight can be deadly."

"She looks good," Draco said to Blaise, ignoring the cool look the comment earned him. "She has a lot of native talent."

Gia seemed to glow under the compliment, and Leolin felt something painful tug at her. She knew there was no room in the current climate for something as frivolous as jealousy, but it was hard to imagine how any man could be immune to Gia's beauty and feisty charm.

"Some people are born to it, I suppose," Blaise said, though he looked as if he wished it weren't so.

"It runs in the blood," Ginny said, laying her head on his shoulder.

As Gia and Brin continued to face off, Leolin drew her own wand from her back pocket.

" _Expelliarmus_ ," she said, catching them both off guard and grabbing their wands from mid-air.

"What—" Brin began, but Leolin had already advanced and swung at him, a blow he only narrowly avoided.

"What's the point of learning hand-to-hand when we have wands?" Gia asked in a somewhat petulant tone, though she'd raised her fists as Leolin pushed Brin off balance and kicked out at Gia instead.

"Magic is a skill, and so is fighting," Xavier said. "Those who excel at the latter tend to rely on it over the former, so you need to be familiar with both."

"How did you get so good at this?" Brin asked Leolin, breathless as he jabbed at her.

"She's been excellently taught," Xavier replied in his rough, smug voice. "You should see her with a katana."

"The life you lead scares me a bit," Brin muttered in Xavier's general direction, though he never seemed to work up the courage to look at the older man directly. Xavier gave him a look of thinly-veiled distain.

"Don't focus on your enemy's strengths," he continued. "Even Leolin gets outmatched. You can't let it distract you."

Gia and Brin exchanged a look, and Gia flung an arm out to distract Leolin as Brin went for the wands in her back pocket, even managing to twist an arm behind her back. However, Leolin simply used it for leverage as Gia approached, leaping up to kick Gia in the chest with both feet before swiveling out of Brin's distracted hold; he'd lost focus the minute Gia'd fallen to the ground, out of breath from Leolin's blow.

"Easy, Lef, Merlin!" Blaise said. "You've made your point; you don't have to crack her sternum."

Gia was still on the ground, ruefully rubbing her chest even through the stiff protective gear she wore.

"You're never going to overpower someone who's been properly trained," Leolin said, extending a hand down to help Gia to her feet. "Your objective needs to be to get your wand back."

Gia reached up to accept the help before clamping Leolin's wrist and tugging her forward. Brin, taking quick advantage, scrambled over and yanked his and Gia's wands from Leolin's back pocket, holding them aloft and bending the same look on Gia she so often bent on Draco: a look of admiration, reverence, and searing want.

"Well done, Jacqueline," Ginny said, shifting from foot to foot and wincing a little. Her due date had officially come and gone, and Leolin wasn't sure how she was still standing with her belly so full. "Very impressive."

"Student's becoming the teacher," Draco said in a mildly sardonic tone, a comment that earned him a glittering smile from Gia and another scowl from Blaise.

"Thought _you_ were her teacher," Leolin said in a voice she knew was too thin to be casual.

"If you're going easy on me," Gia said to Leolin, immediately growing petulant. "Don't. I can take you."

Leolin forced down her agitation. It wasn't unusual for Gia to grow thorny when she felt someone was questioning her skills, and normally it didn't bother Leolin. In fact, she appreciated it; if Gia was going to be a warrior, she'd need a fighting spirit. However, Leolin's nerves had grown increasingly taut as the battle approached, and Gia's insolence, while harmless, only pulled them tighter.

"Tell her, Drake," Gia insisted. "I'm really good."

When he only raised his eyebrows in challenge at Leolin, she felt her patience waning.

"We appreciate your fire, regazza," Xavier said. "But not a fight you would win."

"Let her try, if she wants," Draco interceded in a bored voice. "I think it would be closer than you'd think. After all, Jac's had the benefit of _my_ instruction."

At Gia's grin to Draco, Leolin felt her patience snap.

"If you're so smug, maestro, why don't you fight me yourself?" Leolin demanded.

Draco considered her, eyes glimmering in the late afternoon sun like freshly cut diamonds. Despite their near constant proximity, it had grown somewhat rare for him to look at her with such directness and for such a defined period of time. Usually he only looked at her when he couldn't avoid it, or when he thought she couldn't see him. She always did, though. It was impossible not to; being under Draco's gaze was like standing under the midday sun.

"I'm not going to fight you," he said after a pause, voice quiet but intense. It was then their eyes met, though he held her gaze for only a second before his bled down to examine his perfect nails. It was a false and almost theatrically casual gesture of disinterest, and it stirred something in Leolin's chest

"Why?" she pressed. "You afraid to lose to a girl?"

Draco looked back and considered her with more scrutiny this time, though there was something just under the surface of his expression that made Leolin's pulse trill.

"Play nice, you two," Blaise said, and Draco gave an unpleasant smile that prompted Blaise to grit his teeth in annoyance; the comment had been all the challenge Draco needed. He had a compulsive reflex to always do the exact opposite of what he was told, and besides, he'd never been one to back away from a fight.

"Ever the escalator, I see," he murmured to Leolin as he advanced, so quietly only Leolin could hear him. It lacked the vitriol to be a true jibe, though the bittersweet bite of it stung her just the same. "Wands or fists?"

He ignored Blaise's second protest entirely, making the latter roll his eyes in disgust.

"Fists?" Ginny repeated. "Oh be real, Drake; you're two times her size!"

"I'd put my money on her either way," Xavier offered, folding his thick arms across his chest and give Leolin the kind of appreciative look he rarely bent on anyone else. "Leolin can be vicious when backed into a corner, and of the two of them, she's smarter and more creative."

This earned him a sneer from Draco he returned with a rivaling enmity. Draco and Xavier were both alpha males, too similar to ever be anything but at one another's throat.

"Wands," Leolin said to Draco, wrenching off her engagement ring and handing it to Ginny.

Despite everything, she hadn't quite been able to bring herself to stop wearing it. Draco watched her as she did, something akin to hurt flashing in his keen eyes. However, in a moment it was gone, and Leolin was half convinced she'd imagined it. When she glanced at him again, his expression was steely, his gaze wintery.

"I wouldn't want to embarrass you in front of the babies," she added.

"Hey!" Brin said, but Gia punched him, clearly interested to see where this would go.

"Keep it clean," Blaise said, resignedly assuming the role he'd held since time immemorial; officiant of all conflicts Malfevre. "Nothing nasty."

Draco gave Leolin the customary (albeit mocking) bow, and Leolin replied with a foul hand gesture before spinning on her booted heel and marching the requisite number of paces away from him. Taking a steadying breath, Leolin flicked her long braid over her shoulder and turned to face Draco again. He was studying her with intensity, though whether he was trying to read her expression or size her up for weaknesses, she couldn't tell. Leolin raised her wand to her face and Draco copied her before they both flicked them down in unison, her left hand mirroring his right.

"This is going to be good," Brin whispered to Gia as Leolin reacted first, crying " _Flagello!"_

A silvery whip burst from the tip of her wand, flashing out and grabbing one of Draco's ankles. She gave a savage tug and he was knocked onto his back, though he didn't wait to rise before responding.

" _Expelliarmus_ ," he said, and Leolin blocked it with a flick of her wrist before flourishing the whip again.

Draco rolled deftly aside as it bit into the floor beside him, casting a silent spell that knocked Leolin off balance and caused the whip to vanish as he leapt to his feet.

They raised their wands now at the same time, calling out spells in unison.

" _Serpentsortia!"_

 _"Vipera Evanesca!"_

No sooner had the sleek mamba exploded from Leolin's wand than it dissipated in a crack and a sliver of black smoke.

"How did he know she was going to do that?" Brin demanded, as Leolin and Draco circled, considering each other.

"Because it's her fallback, and everyone knows it," Xavier said. "It's a good lesson; don't be predictable."

Leolin moved her wand as if to cast a spell, and Draco fell for the feint as Leolin cast a protego, and Leolin pressed her advantage to hurl a curse that hit him in the face like a fist. He stumbled again, swearing and wiping blood from his split lip.

"Quit going easy on her," Blaise said in a dry voice as Leolin cast the curse again, catching him in the kidneys this time and arching his back in pain. "Or she's going to beat you bloody."

Draco clenched his jaw in annoyance and cast a jinx Leolin avoided before pointing his wand at the ground and murmuring, " _Aguamenti._ "

He leapt onto the stream of water as it appeared, sliding gracefully across the wood floor towards Leolin with a swiftness she couldn't defend. In an instant he was on his feet, wrenching her left arm behind her and pulling her flush against him even as she took a hasty step in the other direction. They were chest to chest, and Leolin could feel his rising and falling against hers as he stared down at her. It was the closest she'd been to him in ages, and it made every part of her ache.

"Drop your wand, Leolin," he said in a low voice, twisting her arm a little.

However, instead of doing as she was bid, Leolin grit her teeth and brought her head back to slam her forehead to his, the pain and surprise slackening his grip as she tucked her wand into her back pocket and advanced.

" _Damnit_!" he swore as he stumbled back, unable to avoid a well-placed kick to the back of the knee which brought him down.

"I told you she'd kick your arse," Blaise said with a tinge of self-satisfaction as Draco leapt back to his feet and blocked a blow to the ribs.

Finally, he raised his fists in earnest, seeming to also have forgotten he still had his wand. However, he made no move to strike her, and she took two quick steps back and kicked him in the stomach. She heard him exhale an unhappy breath, but before she could retract her foot he grabbed it, bending her knee as his used him body weight to drive her to the ground. She lost her balance and went down, but the force of her blow brought him down on top of her.

Every plane of him was pressed into her now, and she felt, despite everything, a rush of heat between her thighs. He wrenched the wand from her pocket and cast it away, though he made no other move to let her up. In fact, he pinned both wrists to the floor as they both heaved, out of breath. He was close enough that she could smell the toothpaste on his breath, and feel it falling on her lips. She wondered what he would do if she leaned up to kiss him. His eyes searched her face as if he were looking for the answer to a long forgotten question, and when they flicked to her lips, the little breath she'd regained seemed to leave her again.

"Oh, get a room already," Gia muttered in unveiled irritation, and that seemed to break the spell between them.

"Get off me," Leolin snapped, pushing Draco away. He did as he was bid and rose before extending a hand down to help her to her feet as well. She only sneered at his proffered hand and scrambled up unaided.

His gaze snagged on her as she tried to steady her breathing, but before she could read his expression, he'd turned his back to her.

"That's how it's done," he said, as he drove a hand into his damp hair to keep it from his eyes. Gia watched him with keen interest, looking as if she wanted to run a hand through it as well. "It's not about being fierce," Draco continued, seeming to be speaking more to Gia than Brin. "It's about being patient."

By this time Leolin had retreated back to Ginny, feeling seared by the loss and by whatever had just passed between them. There would have been a time when she would have been desperate to unravel it, to get at whatever lay at its centre, but today she found she simply wanted to escape from it all together.

"Here," Ginny said, offering Leolin's ring back. Leolin glanced down at it, gleaming in Ginny's outstretched palm, and her throat ached. Draco had traipsed back in Gia's general direction, though he turned to watch her with an interest he couldn't hide as Ginny extended her hand again.

"Lai," Ginny said, repeating the gesture, but Leolin shook her head, brushing Ginny's hand aside and leaving the room without a word.

She'd only made it halfway down the corridor before she heard footsteps behind her. She picked up her pace, not wanting to face a conversation she'd been dreading.

"Do you have any idea how unfair it is to run away from a pregnant woman?" Ginny called in exasperation, struggling into her coat. "C'mon, Lai, wait up."

Leolin let out a shaky exhale and slowed, turning when Ginny approached. They traipsed down the expanse in silence before ambling from the walkway to the cloistered garden and settling down on a stone bench.

Ginny extended the ring again and Leolin shook her head, throat suddenly tight.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Ginny asked after another minute or two of silence, and Leolin clenched her jaw until she felt her back molars grinding together.

"Not really," Leolin said, trying to rise, but Ginny caught her arm.

"Don't do that," Ginny pleaded. "Please. Don't shut me out. It's been long enough; tell me what's going on with you and Drake."

Leolin squeezed her eyes shut for a second before taking another shaky breath. She desperately wanted a cigarette, but knowing she shouldn't smoke in front of Ginny, she sank down, resigned, on the bench beside her.

"You know you can tell me anything, Bug," Ginny said, putting a soothing hand on Leolin's back.

"We got into a huge row after I accepted that badge," Leolin admitted finally. "I don't think it's any big secret that he didn't want me to take it. He was pretty hacked off when I did it anyways."

"Is that all?" Ginny pressed in a gentle voice.

Leolin was on her feet before she even realised what she was doing.

"Do you know, and you just want to hear me say it?"

Ginny's expression was a mixture of pain and surprise.

"Drake hasn't said a word to either of us," Ginny said, and Leolin sank back down, head in her hands.

"Do you know how the nickname Cal started?" she asked finally.

Ginny shook her head.

"Blaise always said it was a joke about you two fighting. You do seem to do it in rather fantastic fashion."

"Draco is the instigator," Leolin explained, running a hand over her messy braid. "He always starts it. Ninety percent of the fight's we've had, he's started."

"Sounds about right," Ginny said with a rueful smile. "So what does that make you?"

"The escalator. Draco might have started the fights, but I was always the one to escalate them. I've tried to stop, be more—but he just has this insane way of pushing my buttons, and I always lose it and say something cruel I don't mean. I guess it's the Slytherin in me; when things get nasty, I go for the jugular."

Ginny nodded her understanding, though there was no judgment in it.

"So what happened after the vote?"

"I —we started arguing, and he kept insisting I didn't know anything about fighting a war or leading people, and after everything that had happened with Severina, I snapped."

"I don't blame you," Ginny said in sympathy. "I would have been angry, too, and we all say things we don't mean when we're mad."

"No," Leolin said, biting her lip. "You never would have gone as low as I did; it was so incredibly cruel."

"What was it?" Ginny said. "It's okay, darling; no judgment."

Leolin touched her cheek and was surprised to find it was wet with tears.

"Draco said he was just trying to protect me, and I—"

Ginny didn't press her to continue, only rubbed her back as Leolin choked on a sob.

"I said that he couldn't, because if he could, I would still be able to have children."

Ginny's hand inadvertently flew to her mouth, and Leolin nodded, letting out another whimpering sob.

"I didn't mean it, of course, but it didn't matter, because some part of it is true. At least, Draco still thinks it is, and deep down I knew that. I _knew_ how much it would hurt him, and that's why I said it."

Leolin buried her face in her hands and began to sob, and Ginny laid a soothing hand on her shoulder.

"Children have always been Draco's Achilles Heel," Leolin said once she'd regained her voice. "And I know what happened that day tore him apart. I don't regret stepping in front of that Sectumsempra, I would do it again a thousand times, but that doesn't mean it's been easy to come to terms with what it cost me. In fact, it's been —"

"I know, darling, and that's understandable," Ginny soothed. "Of course it is."

"No," Leolin whispered in a fractured voice. "It isn't. Draco was the only part of it that made the pain bearable, and I never could have survived it without him. To let him believe, even for a second, that I somehow hold him responsible—" she broke off, looking down at her trembling hands. "He's never going to forgive me, and I don't blame him; I don't deserve it, or him."

"No," Ginny said, touching Leolin's chin so she could look her in the eye. "You do. In fact, no one deserves to be happy together more than you two."

"He told me the night he left for Wales he thinks that all we ever do is hurt each other, and maybe he's right. Besides, even if he did find some way to forgive me, I don't think I can forgive myself."

"You can; we'll help you."

"It doesn't matter now. I've lost him, Gin."

"Leolin, if there is only _one_ thing in this world that I know is true, it is that you and Draco are meant for each other, and that he'd forgive you anything."

Leolin shook her head, biting her lip as two more tears skidded down her ruddy cheeks.

"I don't think so," she croaked "not this time."

" _Every_ time," Ginny corrected.

Leolin wiped her eyes.

"Tell that to Gia," she said with no small dose of acridity.

"Gia?" Ginny said, brows drawn together in confusion. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I see the way she looks at him."

"Lai, she's had an outrageous crush on him for years, and can you really blame her? He and Blaise are her heroes, and I mean, he's Draco; what younger girl _wouldn't_ have a crush on him? Still, it doesn't mean anything. It's innocent, and he doesn't feel the same. In fact, I doubt he's even noticed at all; that's how thick his blinders are for you."

"If that's true, what is Blaise so shirty about?" Leolin said, letting out a thick exhale and looking down at her hands, at her bare ring finger.

At this, Ginny gave a soft laugh.

"Why does he hate Brin when Gia's never even given him the time of day? Why did Ronald try to throttle Terry Boot when he said 'salud' after I sneezed our fourth year? Because that's what big brothers do: they act like idiots to prove what excellent protectors they are."

"But she's so beautiful..." Leolin said, feeling stupid for even saying it.

"So are you," Ginny breathed, tucking a lock of dark hair behind Leolin's ear. "And Draco could never love anyone so long as you walked the earth; his words, not mine. You'll work things out, I promise."

"I'm terrified that if something does go wrong tomorrow, we might never get the chance."

"No," Ginny said. "Don't say that. It's going to be all right. I know it will."

Leolin nodded, feeling an iron weight being heaved off her chest. Without a word, Ginny extended Leolin's ring to her again, and this time she accepted it, sliding it back into place.

"Thank you," she said, laying a hand on Ginny's stomach and feeling her heart flutter at the faint kick she received. "I needed this; I don't think I even realised how much."

Ginny leaned over to brush a kiss on her cheek.

"Always, darling. Always."

"Leolin?"

They both looked up as a couple approached, a man and a woman, hand in hand.

"Luna," Ginny said in surprise, struggling to her feet. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, hello Ginny," Luna said in her dreamy Welsh lilt. "You look ready to pop."

"Umm, than—"

"It's not as bad as everyone says," Luna interrupted in a matter-of-fact tone. "Giving birth, I mean. And mine was twins! But I have something for you."

She produced a glass milk jug from her coat.

"It's Niffler milk. It helps dilate the cervix and make delivery easier."

Ginny and Leolin exchanged a look that Luna misinterpreted, because she shook her head. "Oh don't worry; it's completely safe. Midwives have been using it for ages. The baby will practically slide right out."

"Oh," Ginny said, accepting the bottle graciously. "Well..thanks."

"This is my husband, Rolf," Luna continued without preamble. "Rolf, these are my friends Leolin and Ginny."

"Nice to meet you," Leolin said, accepting Rolf's shyly proffered hand.

"And you," he said, a slight flush in his cheeks as he pushed a pair of horn-rimmed glasses up his nose.

"So, Luna," Ginny said after a beat of awkward silence. "What are you doing here?"

"Harry told us you have a big mission coming up, and we wanted to help."

At this Leolin and Ginny traded another look, and this one Luna seemed to read correctly. "He didn't give me any detail, don't worry. But I brought you someone I think can help. Rolf, do you have Crixus?"

Rolf drew what looked like a ball of iridescent yarn on a string, offering it to Leolin with great care.

"Umm, brilliant," she said, eying it with polite uncertainty.

"His name is Crixus," Luna explained.

"He likes you," Rolf added as the creature, whatever it was, curled the end of his surprisingly soft tail around Leolin's index finger.

"Uh...he's lovely," she said. "But, um, what is he?"

"A Swooping Evil," Rolf said, seeming more relaxed now. "Unfair nomenclature, really; they're actually quite gentle creatures. Still, they are brilliant in a fight because they're fast and can even deflect spells. My grandfather used his to get out of more than one scrape back in the 20's. And their venom can even cure bad memories."

"This little thing?" Leolin asked incredulously, eying the small emerald cocoon with interest.

"Oh he's actually much larger," Next explained with excitement. "May I?"

"Right," Leolin said, offering the creature back and giving a shriek of surprise when Rolf flung him like a yo-yo, unfurling a set of glistening azure wings as delicate as a butterfly's. However, once in motion Crixus was much more like an eagle, beating his wings only occasionally as he banked and wove through the sky in a graceful arc.

"That's amazing," Leolin breathed, and at this Rolf beamed.

"Isn't it?"

"Yes!" Ginny said for both of them. "I've never seen anything like it."

"Adrian Pucey won't have either," Luna said. "That I can promise you."

"Thank you," Leolin said, accepting Crixus back and letting him curl around her belt loop. "I promise to take excellent care of him."

Rolf nodded, looking only slightly fretful at the prospect of leaving one of his beloved creatures behind.

Luna put a hand to his back, and he seemed to relax.

"Goodbye then," she said airily, a placid smile on her face. "Good luck with whatever it is you'll be doing."

Leolin and Ginny waved their salutations, watching as they disappeared.

"So," Leolin said in a mirthful tone when they were gone. "You going to drink that milk?"

Ginny laughed.

"Depends on how bad the pain is, I suppose."

Leolin nodded her agreement as they lapsed into silence.

"Should we go inside?" Ginny said finally. "I assume you'll be wanting to spend plenty of time in your creepy seraph sanctuary before tomorrow night."

At this, Leolin laughed too, and despite everything, it was the lightest she felt in ages.

"As always, you assume correctly," she said, and they took arms and headed back inside.

* * *

Two days before the full moon, the Emperor left the Palace, and Gen knew once he had that it was her chance at another—perhaps even a final—escape attempt. She'd tried three times already before, and each time she'd failed the punishment had been more severe than the one before.

The first time she'd been caught, having managed to pick the inexplicably Muggle lock on her cage, she was beaten and kept without food and water for two days. The second time, when she'd tricked one of the lowly graveyard shift guards into letting her out before stealing his wand and knocking him unconscious, she'd been whipped in front of the whole court. The third, just a week before, she'd found she was thing enough to slip through the bars, which, unlike the lock, had been unguarded by magic, and the punishment had been nearly unbearable. Lucius had crucioed her half into madness before feeding her a tonic the Solarrii had concocted to induce hallucinations. The effects had lasted days, and if Gen had had a knife, she would gladly have used it to end the torture.

Still, as soon as she'd been well enough to think properly again, she began to formulate a new plan. The canopy of her birdcage was almost paper thin, and if she could scale the bars, she thought she had a good chance of prying it free. She would have assumed, after she'd picked the lock, that they would have warded the cage more thoroughly, but after weeks of careful observation, she realised why they hadn't.

The magnitude of Lucius's powers, the sheer awesomeness of them, had created a sort of instability in the atmosphere. Even the marble pillar and coffered ceiling, which had likely been there since the sixteenth century, seemed to be quaking at their foundation, as if desperate to bow to their new master.

Even Octavia and the high-ranking Solarrii seemed to use magic as little as possible, as if they too were afraid to disturb that which the Emperor's inhumanity had stirred up.

Gen curled her hands around the bars and peered out at the revel that was already in progress, Octavia was perched on her throne in a blood red gown, surveying her kingdom.

Sollarrii guards stood at every entrance, keeping silent watch, and the marble floor glittered with guests and higher ranked officers, though Gen noted that the Lord Protector and his inner circle were all auspiciously absent. Perhaps they'd accompanied Lucius to wherever he'd gone, or perhaps Adrian was holding court at the Hall of Justice, which had been established from the ruins of the old Ministry. The more important prisoners they captured were brought to the palace, often to be persuaded to join Lucius's cause, an offer an dismaying number of them accepted. However, the majority of them were held, tried, and executed at the Hall of Justice.

Wherever Adrian was, Gen was glad he wasn't at the palace. Just seeing him sent her stomach roiling, and he never seemed to miss anything. When he was absent, Gen felt she generally went unobserved, even by Lucius and Octavia. However, when he was present, his gold eyes found her often, as if daring her to make another attempt at freedom. He'd been the one to whip her and pour the poison down her throat, nearly drowning her when he'd held her mouth and nose to force her to swallow it.

It seemed fortuitous, fateful, even, that he wasn't here tonight. Despite her twisted love affair with her brother, Octavia seemed rather taken with Adrian, and the revels always lasted longer when he was there. On the rare occasion both he and Lucius were gone, Octavia grew bored more quickly, and the party didn't stretch on much past midnight. Besides, when they were both gone, the palace was less heavily guarded, which offered Gen her best chance to slip away.

Gen guessed that it was barely ten o'clock, and already she could see Octavia growing restless. She waved away the serving boy who'd attempted to refill her wine glass with obvious irritation, and she drummed her long nails on the throne's arm, as if waiting for something new to amuse her.

At first, Gen had been Octavia's favorite toy, and she'd been dragged out and forced to sing until she was hoarse. However, Octavia had quickly grown bored, and now she treated Gen like an animal she could barely stand to look at.

Gen's forearms and chest were criss-crossed with long angry scratches she'd inflicted in the height of her mania, and though she hadn't seen her reflection in weeks, she knew clumps of her hair were missing where she'd torn them out. Octavia had called her lovely when she'd first arrived, and perhaps she still had been in some broken way. Now she was a hollow shell, and far from the ornament Octavia had clearly hoped she'd be.

As the last of a haunting waltz faded from the musician's strings, Octavia raised a hand to indicate she didn't care for another, and she half rose from her chair.

Gen could hardly believe her good fortune. The party would die with Octavia's departure, and by eleven the hall would be deserted. She'd never get a better chance to make her escape.

However, as Octavia handed her glass to a servant and stood, the doors of the hall swung open to admit a brawny guard with a mermaid tattoo on his left arm and a pair of crossed beater's bats on his other. Gen recognised him from her engagement party at she and Draco's flat all those months ago, though she'd long since forgotten his name.

"If I may, my lady, the Lord Protector has arrived, and he requests an audience."

Octavia sank back into her throne, eyes gleaming.

"And he may have it," she said with satisfaction, gesturing for a fresh glass of wine. "Send him in, lieutenant."

Gen's heart sank as Adrian entered, striding with feline grace up the centre aisle before bending on one knee in deference. He wore fighting gear and his white Solarrii cloak, though they were both streaked with blood and ash. There was flecks of blood on his cheek and neck as well.

"Adrian," Octavia said with delight. "What a pleasant surprise. What news?"

"France has fallen," he said with a cool, self-assured smile. "The continent is ours."

Octavia set down her goblet and rose to her feet again.

"Congratulations, my lord," she purred, slithering down the dais to meet him. "His majesty will be so pleased."

She approached, pressing a hand to Adrian's broad chest and brushing a kiss on his cheek. The gesture was more genteel than salacious, but Gen still wondered what Lucius would think if he could see them. She sincerely doubted he'd be pleased; he'd killed men for much less.

Adrian smirked down at her, and for an absurd moment Gen thought he was actually going to kiss Octavia. However, he didn't, and after a moment Octavia turned back to her seat.

"Come, we should celebrate."

"I would be delighted," he said breezily. "But perhaps you would permit me to shower first. I feel inadequate to be so ill-dressed in your radiant presence, and I want to wash this filthy traitor blood off."

Octavia looked as if she had half a mind to wash it off herself, but she smiled and nodded instead.

"Of course," she said. "But you must promise you won't keep me waiting too long."

He flashed another easy grin, his teeth so white they were nearly fluorescent.

"Never, my lady," he said, and she nodded in satisfaction as she turned to go.

She seemed more engaged even after he'd gone, drinking another glass of wine and clapping for the dancing to resume. She watched as the couples wove effortlessly together and apart, like a glittering wave ebbing and flowing. After a moment she gesture for a servant, whispering in his ear before sending him out of the hall.

Adrian arrived just as the song ended, looking—now that he was cleaned up—handsome as ever. Tate Rawle and Victoria Thivierge were with him, similarly dressed.

He wore a stiff white shirt with a tall collar and a black waistcoat to match, though it was open at the throat to reveal his tan skin and the glittering chain of his Sollarii pendant.

"You were right," Octavia said, drinking him in. "That _is_ much better."

He gave a small bow.

"You flatter me, Octavia."

It was the first time Gen had ever heard him call her that, and it made her feel sick. Perhaps he intended to sleep with her after all, and if he did, it meant his influence with the Emperor had risen to sickening heights.

"I observe," she amended. "Someone fetch the Lord Protector some wine."

A servant appeared at Adrian's elbow almost immediately, and he accepted it and took a long draught.

"Come," Octavia said, gesturing to a chair that sat on the lower step of the dais. "I have a surprise for you."

He sank down beside her, smirking.

"A good surprise, I hope."

"Hmm," she purred, eying him with appreciation again. "Nothing less for my champion."

She clapped her hands, and the brawny Solarrii from before emerged with a man who Gen guessed might have been his brother. The prisoners both had a struggling figure, clapped in irons, by the arm. They were both filthy and ragged, but Gen would have recognised them anywhere.

"Max!" she croaked, gripping the bars of the cage so tightly her knuckles were white.

He didn't look at her, staring coldly at Octavia instead.

"Silence, wretch," Octavia snapped at Gen, eying Max and Beau with cool interest before turning back to Adrian and bending a gleaming look on him. "I thought a duel, perhaps."

Adrian's smile widened.

"You shouldn't have."

"Fuck you, Pucey," Max sneered, and Adrian rolled his eyes.

"No please," Gen cut in. "My lady—"

"I thought I told you to _be quiet_ ," Octavia said.

"We won't do it," Beau said, voice hoarse. Of the two of them, he looked the better for wear, though there was a fresh scar along his cheekbone, and the eye above it was blackened to the colour of crush violets.

"Don't make me be boring and kill you," Adrian warned lazily.

"Go ahead," Beau said resolutely. "I'd rather die than play your little game."

"I'm sure you would," Octavia cut in. "But I promised my lord a show, and I'm not one to go back on my promises."

With that, the brothers unlocked Max and Beau's chains and shoved them to the ground, a sword clattering down between them. Neither moved, and Adrian drew his wand.

" _Crucio."_

They both began to heave and twitch, their screams shredding the air around them to violent ribbons.

"Please!" Gen said. "Don't hurt them. I'll do—"

Adrian relented only long enough to silence her before casting an Imperio that washed over the two men like waves of heat. Immediately they both went slack, raising their heads almost in unison and eying each other with enmity.

Max lunged for the sword first, but it was slightly closer to Beau, and he only had time enough to kick it out from under Max's fingers before the latter tackled him bodily to the ground. He raised his forearms to protect his face as Max rained down blows. Finally, Beau found a way to roll out from under Max's hold, and he lunged for the forgotten sword, fingers straining for the gilded hilt. Max grabbed him by the ankle and dragged him back, trying to scrabble over him and reach the blade instead. However, Beau managed to trip him up, smashing Max's face into the marble and bloodying his lip.

Beau had reached the sword now, and he turned to face Max and the latter raised his hands in a defensive position as Beau swiped at him. Despite his strength, it was clear he was unaccustomed to handling a weapon other than his wand, and Max slapped it away before kicking Beau in the chest. The sword fell from his grip as his back slammed into the floor, knocking the breath from him. Taking advantage of Beau's incapacitation, Max fetched the sword, yanking Beau to his feet and pressing the blade to his throat.

"Well fought," Octavia said in delight. "Don't you think, Genevieve?"

Gen gave a silent whimper.

"Though a fight to first touch is admittedly somewhat boring."

Octavia turned her thumb down in the style of a Roman emperor at a gladatorial match. She then turned to Gen, returning the latter's voice with a snap of long fingers.

"Who shall it be, then?" Octavia asked, descending the dais again. "Your choice, little bird."

"No please," Gen croaked. "Don't make me choose."

Octavia shrugged.

"Then we kill them both."

"No!" Gen pleaded, all thoughts of escape guttering out like a candle. "Kill me, instead."

"How noble," Adrian sneered.

"No, I don't think so," Octavia added. "Now who will it be, Brawny or Blue Eyes?"

"Please," Gen said in a whimper as Octavia drew her wand from a fold in her gown before pressing it to Max's pulse point.

"NO!" Gen screamed, tears welling in her eyes and blurring her vision. "Not him; please."

"Very well, then," Octavia said, moving to Beau instead. Despite the determined set of his jaw, Gen could see the fear in his eyes, and she thought she might be sick. However, Octavia paused before lowering her wand.

"On the other hand," she said, circling him slowly before disintegrating the dirt. "This one's rather handsome. Maybe I'll keep him."

Adrian gave a smooth laugh, and Beau clenched his jaw, unbidden shame staining his cheeks.

"The trouble is that handsome men so often make the _worst_ lovers, so I want a demonstration. Adrian," she called over her shoulder, still eying Beau. "Find me a girl."

"Go to Hell, bitch," Beau snarled, seeming to regain some of his lucidity.

"And no more of that," Octavia said in a prim tone, turning back to Adrian before letting her gaze flit over Victoria, who bristled.

"No, _wait_ ," she said in mock revelation, snapping her fingers. "I know just the nightingale for the job."

Gen let out a miserable sob as the nearest Solarii unlocked her cage and dragged her out.

"No," Max said, eyes no longer so cold as they bled to Gen. Despite everything, she felt their old kinship flowing between them. "Don't make her do it."

"What's the matter, Brank?" Adrian jeered. "Would you rather he fucked you instead?"

Max tried to lunge at him, but the tattooed brother yanked him back by the collar and twisted his arms behind his back. However, he and his brother seemed much less gleeful at the prospect than Adrian or Octavia.

"Tate?" Adrian said, taking a sip of his wine. "Her clothes."

Gen shrank away from Tate as he advanced, but in an instant he had her by the arm.

"Take them off," he ordered. "Or I'll do it for you."

Gen whimpered as she gathered her hem and tugged the dress over her head before covering her exposed breasts with a shameful sob.

"No point in that," Adrian pointed out in a sardonic tone. "There's nothing left to see there."

"Is she always this prudish?" Octavia asked, sounding almost bored.

"I'm afraid so," Adrian said with a sigh. "Get on with it, Taylor."

The younger of the two brothers shoved Beau forward, but he made no other move to touch Gen.

"For fuck's sake," Adrian growled as Gen cried harder. " _Imperio_."

Gen felt her arms falling away from her chest like a marionette whose strings had been cut. Beau's eyes were glazed over as he reached to pull her towards him. The imperio urged into to follow her lead as he lowered them both onto a conjured matt. The curse brought her hand to his cheek, but he flinched away. She'd done this to him, she realised in horror. This was entirely her fault.

"Beau," she whispered in supplication, but he grit his teeth, engaged in a losing battle against the Imperius.

"Don't," he grit out. "Please."

She no longer had the energy to cry, but she felt tears leaking from the corners of her eyes as he dispassionately shed her underwear and put a hand between her thighs. There was a time that she'd wanted him to touch her like this, but now it felt like a different lifetime. At present she wished she had the power to push him away.

His fingers moved against her to little effect, and after a minute or two of her squirming, he bent his head to touch her with his tongue instead.

The sensation tore a cry from her throat, and she could hear Adrian's cruel laughter as Beau's tongue worked in and out. She felt detached from the physical response his machinations elicited. However, his movements were still stiff and wooden, and she was barely wet.

"At this rate, we'll be here all night," Adrian complained. " _Imperio."_

Gen felt the muscles in Beau's back tense as the curse struck him between the shoulder blades, and he raised his head to kiss her with abandon. His tongue tasted like strawberries, and she felt sick.. Immediately his fingers replaced his tongue, but her body, perhaps in a final act of sick defiance, didn't seem to be responding, and finally Beau licked his fingers before driving into her.

She cried out again as he began to move. The Imperio seemed to get a better grasp on him as he pumped, and his motion became graceful and smooth as he knotted a hand into her hair.

After a minute or two Gen could feel the dry ache between her thighs turning to a dull heat, and she squeezed her eyes shut, fending the sensation off. It would be shameful to take pleasure in something this sick. However, Beau had no choice, and with a grunt he spilled into her before rolling off.

She sobbed again as she felt the wetness trickling down her thighs. Octavia approached as Beau re-buttoned his filthy jeans, coaxing him to his feet.

"Very impressive," she said.

She put a finger under his chin to tilt it down towards her, and he acquiesced. Gen could see Octavia smiling against his lips as they kissed.

"Have him fitted with the proper charms and brought to my room," she said. "He can be my dessert. And give the little bird her clothes back and put her in her cage; she's done her part."

Tate Rawle rose and dragged Beau from the room.

"And Brankovitch?" Adrian inquired.

Octavia considered Max with a pert frown.

"I don't care for that insolent look he's got on his face. Have him beaten and put back in his cell. But not too much; after all, he's still our bait."

Adrian preened in self satisfaction as Max too was hauled out.

The curse had finally fallen away from Gen, and though she was too defeated to cry again, she curled into a ball on the floor of her cage.

"Well that _was_ entertaining," Octavia said, accepting Adrian's hand as she rose to her feet. "But I think I'll retire for the evening. I'm eager to break in my new stallion."

Adrian grinned.

"I think I'll do the same," Adrian agreed, snapping at Victoria, who rose obediently to her feet. She looked pleased to have been summoned after being so wholly ignored all evening. "It's been a long day."

"Then here's to an even longer night," Octavia said, extending a hand for Adrian to kiss. "Congratulations again on your victory."

Adrian winked at her in what felt like an almost obscene gesture before looping an arm around Torrii's waist and striding from the room.

Octavia handed her empty glass to a servant and followed him, the rest of the court draining like a whirlpool behind her.

The lights burning in the sconces lowered as the room emptied, and Gen winced as the door slammed shut, leaving her completely alone.

All she could feel—and she huddled against the darkness, rocking slightly—was the guilt at everything she'd done, and it crushed all the resolve from her bones.

She knew now that she was never going to escape, never going to be able to set things right with Leolin or tell Draco the terrible truth about his father's powers, and it seemed to wrench the last shard of her soul out through her chest, leaving her an empty, broken husk.

All she could do now—all she had left—was to die.

* * *

As Ginny had predicted, Leolin had spent the majority of the evening and much of the next day in her so-called sanctuary, feeling somehow protected under the Angels' gaze. The Seraphim had never been figures of solace, indeed they represented God's justice, even his wrath. However, she did somehow take comfort in that. As she stood on the brink of what was sure to be, despite her best-laid plans, mortal peril, it was difficult not to question her decision to return to the Manor. Or the Palace, Kelly reported they were calling it now. She knew that Draco had been right in saying that Adrian was betting on her returning for Brank and the others, and that even with Kelly's plan to draw the Sollarii away, he was likely to be waiting for her when she came.

Thus, it was only the knowledge that rescuing them was the most just course, even if it was not the most tactical and prudent, that comforted her. As she lay on the Persian carpet, the Heavenly Host keeping eternal vigil from above, she found herself praying that they would be on her side. _Michael_ , she pleaded, _please fight with us. Gabriel, please protect us. Samael, please turn a blind eye._

"I figured I'd find you here," a voice said from the doorway.

Draco stood framed in the dying light pouring from the corridor, looking every bit the avenging angel himself.

She sat up. She couldn't decide if she was surprised to see him, or if she'd somehow been expecting him.

"Ginny sent me," he explained in a quiet voice. "Dinner's ready."

"I'm not sure I can eat," she said. "My stomach's in knots."

He crossed his arms and leaned on the doorframe, studying her in a way only he ever did.

"You need your strength," he said finally, and she nodded.

She let out a breath.

"Are you ready for this?" he asked, and she skated a hand through her hair to give her fingers something to do.

"I'm not sure there's any real way to be," she admitted. "Are you?'

He considered, diamond eyes glittering.

"I have to be; we all do."

She nodded her agreement, wishing she could share in his confidence. It seemed, as always, absolute.

"C'mon then," he said, turning towards the door as she finally stood.

She half expected him to wait for her, but he didn't, and, resigned, she didn't race to catch up to him, just watched him as he strode to the kitchen.

Everyone was already assembled by the time she arrived, looking solemn. Her eyes found Felix and the empty seat beside him first, and she moved to sit in it without hesitation. There was a time not so long ago when she would have gone to Draco's instead, but that felt almost a distant memory now.

Leolin watched with a pang as he sank down next to Gia, though he didn't look at her even as Gia studied him with practiced admiration.

The last to arrive was Xavier, tucking his silver compact into his pocket as he sat.

True to his word, he hadn't mentioned Severina once since the day he'd arrived, but he always had the mirror on his person, and Leolin caught him idly twirling it in his fingers whenever his hands weren't otherwise occupied.

No one really spoke as they ate, and when they were done, everyone looked at Leolin expectantly for either orders or leave to go.

"We leave at midnight," Leolin said. "Everyone be ready by then."

She rose first and everyone silently copied her.

"I know it's hard, but try to get some rest; we have a long night ahead of us."

Felix touched a sympathetic hand to her shoulder as she watched them file out, only turning to her when they were alone.

"Are you all right, bichette?" he asked as she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"No," she admitted, and he rubbed her back.

"It's almost over," he assured her. "And we are with you until the end. Je promets."

"Merci," she said, extracting herself. "Je te verrai à minuit."

"Until midnight," he affirmed. "Get some rest, lapin."

She nodded and swept out, ignoring the temptation to go back to the benediction room and heading to her own bedroom instead. She didn't bother to wash her face when she got there, simply brushed her teeth and stripped off her clothes, redressing in an old tee shirt of Draco's he'd left behind. It still smelled faintly of his cologne, and she pressed a nose to her shoulder to inhale the scent as she slipped beneath the sheets.

The bed still felt lonely without him beside her and Rodames curled protectively at her feet, but she ignored the pang, falling rather quickly into fitful sleep.

When she woke up the room was dark, and a figure was sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Ren?" she said, sitting up. "Is it midnight already?"

"No," a voice replied softly. "You still have time."

"Drake," she breathed, rising to a fully upright position.

He said nothing, only watched her.

She thought to ask what he was doing there, but realising she wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer, she said nothing. He was close enough that she could feel his warmth, and she yearned to lean into it, even knowing that if she did, she ran the risk of tipping into the void that now stretched between them.

She let out a shaky breath as he leaned forward, touching a gentle hand to her cheek. Besides their sparring match the day before, it was the first time he'd touched her in weeks.

"Drake," she repeated, but he didn't reply, only met her gaze before leaning forward to kiss her.

It was slow and soft, and she responded with gentle reverence, hoping to tell him all the things they'd left unsaid. After a moment he pressed forward, tangling his long, elegant fingers in the dark water of her hair as his tongue parted her lips. She could taste the faint juniper and quinine on his breath.

"Leolin," he whispered as she crawled into his lap, driving her own hands into his silken hair as he tipped his chin up. His hands immediately skimmed below the hem of his faded quidditch t-shirt, brushing the soft skin at her waist. She relinquished her grip to raise her arms so he could tug the offending garment off and touch his lips to her neck.

She let out another sigh as her fingers found purchase in the back of his own shirt, and he tugged it off in a fluid motion before raising his chin to kiss her again. She leaned back and slipped out of her knickers. He shed the sweatpants he wore as she ran a hand down his smooth chest. He lifted her back into his lap. She rocked against him, arms around his shoulders.

Effortlessly she raised her hips and slid down on him, eliciting a soft exhale as she repeated the motion with increasing speed. They found their rhythm at once, growing breathless as the pace crescendoed. They said nothing as they continued to move against each other, and it wasn't until the gentle hurricane washed over her that Leolin realised she'd been close to release at all.

He followed her only a minute or two later, and she felt wetness stinging her eyes as his body tightened and went languid beneath her. When it was over she summoned the courage to look at him and find all the animosity and hurt had bled from his gaze.

"I love you," she choked, he rose to kiss her again, breathing against her lips.

"I know," he said against her lips. "Leolin, I—"

The door banged open without ceremony, letting in harsh illumination.

"Bichette, it's ti—oh _Jesus_."

Leolin and Draco both shied away from the light as Draco pressed a hand to her back and pulled her against his chest to shield the better part of her nakedness.

"I—I'm sorry," Felix stammered, turning his back to them. "But it's quarter til, Général. We need to go."

"We fucking heard you the first time," Draco snarled. "Get out."

Leolin could sense, even without looking at him, that Felix was considering making a final apology, but Draco must have been giving him a murderous look, because after a second he was gone.

Leolin crawled from Draco's lap and off the bed, crossing to the bureau and beginning to dress. She wordlessly slipped into leggings and a black thermal before easing a protective vest over her head and buckling the wand holster around her waist, affixing the strap around her thigh with shaking fingers as she stepped into dragonhide boots.

When she looked up Draco was similarly dressed and sliding a wand into each of the loops at his chest. Leolin pushed the katana Xavier had given her, the shimmering blade folded neatly against the pommel, into her belt, before reaching for her own wand. By now her hands were shaking so badly that it fell from her grip and onto the soft rug.

Draco bent to retrieve it for her, hand skimming up her calf before sliding it home into the loop at her thigh. He straightened to his full height with exaggerated slowness, surveying her before smoothing the long tail of her braid between thumb and forefinger. He then bent to kiss her, tongue tangling with her and dragging a desperate, wordless plea from her throat. However, before she could say anything about it, he gently brushed past her and out the door.

She took a breath, fending off the swelling urge to cry before retrieving Crixus from his small cage and letting him curl is tail around one of the loops of her belt. She blew out another breath, steadier this time, before following him.

Their bedroom was at the top of a small tower, and she trotted down the steps, counting each one as she descended to the courtyard.

"Lai. Leolin!"

Leolin turned as halfway down to find Blaise several steps behind her.

"What—?" she said, reading his almost stricken expression, but he didn't let her finish.

"Gin's in labor. Langdon Blackburn's just arrived; he says it won't be long now."

"Stay," Leolin said automatically. "We'll manage without you."

"But you need me," he said, clearly torn. "You'll be a man short otherwise."

Leolin considered quickly, and he seemed to arrive at her conclusion at the same time she did, because his brows synched.

"I'm sorry," she said softly in answer to his pleading look. "But I need her. I'll bring Brin as well, and Draco will watch out for her."

"No," Blaise said at once. "It's too dangerous. _Please_."

"Blaise," Leolin said seriously. "Ginny needs you. You have to be here with her."

He let out a choked noise.

"I can't let Gia go in my place. She's my little sister. If something were to happen to her—"

"It won't," Leolin said. "I'll protect her, I promise."

"But—"

"You're staying," Leolin bit out, more harshly than she meant to. "Blaise, that's an order."

Blaise grimaced, but before Leolin could insist, he nodded tightly.

"Look out for her," he said. "Please."

"You know I will," Leolin assured him. "Now go."

He nodded again and headed back up the stairs. She turned towards the lower bedrooms and encountered Felix on the next landing.

"Get Gia and Brin up and dressed and meet me in the courtyard."

"What—" he began, but she shook her head.

"Ginny's in labour, and Blaise is staying with her."

"But—"

"Ren, there isn't time. Just please, do as I ask."

Felix finally nodded, and Leolin exhaled and began jogging down the stairs again.

"Ten minutes," she called over her shoulder, not waiting for a reply.

When she reached the courtyard Draco and Xavier were already waiting. Draco stood with arms crossed looking resolute as Xavier spoke quietly into the compact several yards off. When he saw Leolin, he murmured a plaintive farewell in Italian before snapping it shut and slipping it into his pocket.

"Where's Blaise?" Draco said immediately, and Leolin shook her head.

"He's staying with Ginny; the baby's on its way. I sent Felix to get Gia and Brindisi. As soon as they get here, we're leaving."

Draco looked as pained by this news as Blaise had been, and Leolin took a step towards him.

"I want you to keep an eye on them; if anything happens, I want you to get them out of there immediately. Agreed?"

For once he offered no protest and she nodded, flexing her fingers in an effort to expel the excess energy bunching up in the nerves of her forearms. She'd known there would be complications, but she hadn't anticipated running into them this early. The blood in her brain pounded a throbbing tattoo, and she fought down a swell of nausea.

"We're here," a voice called, and Leolin felt a mixture of dread and relief at seeing Gia dressed in fighting gear, Brin and Felix behind her.

Leolin grabbed her by the arm.

"Giacomina, look at me," she demanded. "I know this wasn't the plan. Are you sure you can do this?"

Gia shot a pleading look at Draco, and for once, it was devoid of longing. It was filled with apprehension instead, and it made her seem years younger. He gave her a reassuring nod, a gesture that she repeated.

"Yes," she said to Leolin.

"She's ready," Draco affirmed, trading a look with Xavier.

"If I tell you to do something," Leolin said, not relinquishing her grip on Gia's collar. "You do it. Understand? No back talk."

"I know," Gia said. "I promise."

Leolin finally let go, accepting an apparition stone from Felix before tossing one to Xavier and one to Draco, who already had Gia by the elbow.

Xavier grabbed Brin loosely by the collar and nodded at Leolin, who turned to Felix. He offered Leolin his hand, and she took it before trading a final look with Draco. His eyes were full of meaning, but she could still read what lay beneath the tangled heap; _I love you_.

"Alright," she said, letting out a rounded-mouth exhale. "Let's do this."

* * *

Attributions:

"I could never love anyone so long as you walked the earth"

-Matthew Crawley, Downton Abbey


	6. Chapter 6: Deliver Me, Oh Lord

A/N: IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENTS. IN HONOUR OF ALL MY LOYAL REVIEWERS, I WILL NOW BE SENDING OUT SNIPPETS FOR THE UPCOMING CHAPTER FOR EVERY REVIEW. They won't be total spoilers, but they will give you a good taste of what's to come. So if you're interested in knowing whats coming next, you know what to do! xx

* * *

Chapter Six: Deliver Me, Oh Lord

* * *

The group arrived several seconds later in the sleepy wizarding hamlet of Keynsham just as a soft snow began to fall, dusting their clothes and the worn cobblestones beneath their feet. Glancing around, Leolin tugged the hood of her jacket up and slunk into a cramped alley, gesturing for the others to follow. When they were all out of sight, she grabbed Brin by the collar, giving him a hard look when he let out a yelp of surprise.

"Go inside," she instructed. "Find the bartender with the eyepatch, order a Pegasi bitter, and give him this." She held up a small, faded coin that he eyed with trepidation. "He's going to give you a key. Drink the entire pint, then come out that door." she pointed to a shabby oak door set into the back wall of the pub. "Understood?"

Brin took a shaky breath, glancing at Gia for support.

"I think so."

"Focus, Brindisi," Leolin said, snapping in his face to get his full attention back. "And just act natural. I know it's tempting, but don't look around, and don't drink too fast. Keep it casual, alright?"

He swallowed, his adam's apple sliding up and then back down before he nodded.

"Right," he said, accepting the coin and a hearty thump on the back from Felix before disappearing back onto the main street and into the pub.

Time seemed to slow as they waited, Gia biting her nails and Xavier twirling his wand as Leolin resisted the urge to look at either Felix or Draco. She could feel them both watching her. Finally, unable to take it any more, she slid a slim pack of fags she'd grabbed last minute from her pocket and pulled one out, lighting it with the end of her wand.

"Don't start that again," Felix chided as she took a drag and exhaled.

"It calms me down," Leolin said, violet smoke slithering from her nose and lips.

"You—"

"Leave her alone," Draco snarled quietly. "If it helps her, let her be."

Felix looked ready to bite something out, but after glancing between Leolin and Draco—neither of whom seemed able to look at the other—he fell silent.

Just as Leolin finished the slender cigarette and was considering beginning another, the door creaked open, and Brin's shaggy head poked out.

"Took you long enough," Draco growled.

"Leolin said I should take my time," he protested as she took a large antique key he held out to her and tossed it to Felix.

Felix caught it midair and began feeling around the nothingness, looking like a mime pantomiming a door that didn't exist. However, after a second he seemed to find what he was looking for and he slid the key into an invisible lock, revealing an ancient iron gate that creaked open into a small paddock. Inside stood five thestrals, who pawed the ground and chuffed quietly as Leolin and the others filed in.

"Merlin," Gia breathed, lowering her hood and approaching one with awe. "I've never seen one in real life before."

Leolin and Draco exchanged a quick glance, and Leolin was sure they were thinking the same thing.

"I still can't see them," Brin said, turning back and forth and looking bemused. "What are they like?"

"Pray you never find out," Xavier said, grabbing Brin without ceremony and hoisting him into the nearest saddle. "Andiamo, ragazza."

He gestured to Gia that she should join Brin on the thestral he was riding, but she only glanced at Draco, as if hoping he might let her ride with him instead. However, he only nodded his agreement, swinging into his own saddle as Xavier helped Gia clamber up in front of Brin who, despite everything, seemed meekly pleased for the opportunity to put him arms around her.

"Follow my lead," Leolin said, giving her own mount an quick tap in the gut and holding on as it beat its leathery wings and rose into the air.

It was even colder up in the cloud bank, and Leolin's eyes and lips stung from the wintery air and the continual precipitation. However, even despite the weather they made good time, and in just under ten minutes they were landing in the dense tree cover that bordered the manor.

They hastily tied up the Thestrals and approached the sprawling grass of the back garden on foot, with Felix casting a soft spell every ten feet or so. Finally, he held out a hand to halt their advance before drawing a small stone from his pocket and hurling it. It struck something solid and they heard a crack. The stone was embedded in what looked like mid-air, and Felix drew a dagger and cut a slit it whatever barrier the stone had hit, pulling it back like a tent flap.

"Cool," Brin said, mouth slightly open as he ducked under the invisible curtain.

"Keep moving," Xavier growled, giving Brin a soft push as he followed him inside the barrier.

"This way," Leolin said, gesturing for them to follow.

Finally they reached the statue of Juturna, which—despite the artic temperature—continued to bubble softly.

"Brilliant," Brin said. "so what's this, then?"

"Can you never stop talking?" Xavier said, teeth bared.

"Give him a break, he was never fully briefed," Leolin said to Xavier. "But he's right, Brindisi," she continued, turning to Brin. " Please just shut it."

"But how are we supposed to—" Gia began, but Felix answered by leaping nimbly onto the fountain's lip and glancing back at Leolin.

"I'll go first and cushion the landing. I'll send up sparks when it's safe to go."

With that he stepped off the ledge and fell down into the fountain like a lead pencil, eliciting a shriek of surprise from Gia. Ten seconds later the water flashed a sickly puce, and Xavier jabbed Brin in the back.

"You next, parlanchín," he said as Brin frowned.

"Wait, what did he call me?" he asked, but Xavier gave him a soft shove, and Brin tipped—rather ungracefully—head first down the shoot.

Without looking back, Xavier followed him, leaving only Gia, Leolin, and Draco.

Gia's eyes were on Draco.

"Go on, Jac," he said in a soft, stern voice, his breath hanging in the damp air. "I'm right behind you."

He extended a hand to help her up and she took it, plugging her nose before plunging out of sight. By this time Leolin's heart had jumped to the base of her throat, and she could feel it's dull hammer in her skull. Without looking at Draco, she moved to follow the others, but he abruptly grabbed her by the crook of the elbow. She turned back to look at him, and his eyes were pleading.

"I love you," he breathed, the grip on her elbow tightening slightly. She could feel the warmth in his fingers even through his leather gloves. "Leolin, I love you."

It was what she'd waited nearly a month to hear from him, but somehow in that moment all Leolin could process was the pain of it. She thought of what she'd confessed to Ginny about worrying words would remain permanently left unsaid, and her heart clenched.

"I know," she whispered, and he tugged her towards him, looping an arm around her waist and crushing her mouth to his so hard the breath was nearly knocked out of her.

She could taste the snowflakes on his lips, and Leolin knew that they could only spare a moment, so she made it count, pouring everything she had into the kiss. Finally she pulled away, pressing her forehead to his as their condensed breath co-mingled like tendrils of smoke between them.

"We have to go," she said, eyes closed.

She felt him nod, and knowing she couldn't bear to look at him again, she turned and plunged down the tunnel. The journey was as cold and unpleasant as she'd remembered, and by the time she landed on the pillowed mound of earth Felix had made, her teeth were chattering.

Draco landed with a painful thud beside her, wincing.

"Well that was less than perfectly designed," he said in a brittle voice as they all dried off, and Felix rolled his eyes.

"Bite me, I'm not an engineer."

"A what?" Xavier asked in confusion, but Leolin waved them off, approaching the warn oak door from their first journey. Kelly had confirmed that it had somehow sealed itself since they'd broken it down the last time, and she was relieved when she touched the boards and felt the magic thrumming through them.

She extended a hand to Felix, who produced a crowbar and passed it to her. She drew her wand and placed an enchantment on the iron before putting it to the small gap between the slats. She grit her teeth as she pried three off as quietly as she could.

"You can't be serious," Brin said, eying the small gap she'd made. "We'll never fit."

"Brindisi," she growled, vanishing the crowbar into her cache. "One more word and I will make you wait with the Thestrals."

"Besides," Felix said in a dry voice as Gia squeezed through. "You're a beanpole; You could probably fit through the crack of a closed door."

Brin looked ready to protest, but Leolin shot him a warning look and he prudently remained silent, following Gia instead. Xavier went next, swearing as he forced his formidable bulk through the slender opening. Ren slipped through as deftly as his namesake, and Leolin gestured for Draco to follow him. He pushed through, extending a hand to Leolin from the other side. She squeezed it purposefully as she stepped onto the other side, turning to summon the loose boards before murmuring " _lignum reparo",_ snapping them back into place. Felix shot her a look of silent protest, but she shook her head before indicating they move on.

They slunk down the passage without a sound, boot tread light on the damp earth even as it faded to stone. As they approached the cells they could hear raised voices. Leolin indicated they stop, melting against the wall and willing her heart to stop hammering.

"Fuck you, Troy," rasped a voice. "You traitorous bastard. When I get out of here, I'm going to rip your fucking lungs out."

" _Beau_ ," Leolin mouthed to Draco, who nodded.

"Save it," Kelly said in a flat voice. Leolin could tell, even never having heard him do it before, that it was the one he used to feign the effects of the Imperius. "Don't make me punish you."

"Go ahead and try," Beau snarled before crying out, his body hitting the ground with a hard thud.

Kelly must have hit him.

"Those are some big words from a pretty little mistress," Kai Morris jeered, and Leolin listened as Kelly gave soft laugh.

It tugged at her, even knowing it was all an act.

"Teach him a lesson, Kel," Kai urged, and they heard soft crack, like a boot colliding with someone's face.

Gia winced, but Leolin shook her head to indicate everyone remain where they were. They was another sound, and Beau cried out again.

"Not too much," Kai laughed. "Octavia won't want him too banged up the next time she decides to fuck him."

"Jesus Christ," Felix breathed, but Leolin shook her head again.

"Go ahead, you pathetic coward," Beau wheezed, but suddenly there was a click, and Tate Rawle's jaguar growl filled the space.

"Troy," he said. "Potter and Lefevre were just spotted in London. Get Morris and meet me at the Hall of Justice. We're going after them."

There was another click, and his voice faded.

"Put him back in his cell and let's go," Kelly said to Kai, and there was final crack of fist against bone.

"That's enough," Kelly demanded. "We need to go."

There was a grinding of metal on metal as the cage door swung open, followed by the sound of the door swinging shut and retreating footsteps. Only when the sound had faded did Leolin move.

"Now," she said, drawing her wand and advancing.

The interior of the prison was a labyrinth of cells, and Leolin raised her wand, peering into them as the others did the same. They were mostly empty, and Leolin's heart hammered as she wondered who'd they'd find first, and what shape they'd be in.

"Leolin!" Felix called, and Leolin followed the sound of his voice, the reedy beam of light from her wand falling on a slight figure huddled against the back wall of a cell.

"It's Sharpe," she said as Felix blasted the door open and rushed to her side. "Get her up."

Reagan winced as Felix reached for her.

"Reagan," he said in a gentle voice. "It's Chaisson. Can you stand? We need to go."

She braced herself against the wall and tried to rise, and when she wobbled, legs unsteady beneath her, Felix looped an arm beneath her knees and lifted her. She immediately buried her face against his shoulder, and his grip tightened.

"It's alright," he soothed. "You're safe."

"Where are the others?" Leolin demanded.

"Further down," Reagan rasped, voice hoarse. "Brank—"

"Xavier," Leolin said, jerking her head, and he and Brin started down the way Reagan had indicated. Draco, she realised dully, is nowhere in sight.

Gia had retreated across the corridor, staring into a cage bathed in moonlight.

"Oh gods," Beau wheezed as she glared down at him with enmity, making no move to unlock the door. "There's a sister."

At this Gia's lip curled in a sneer.

"I know who you are," she said.

"Not now," Leolin told her, turning only briefly from her examination of Reagan to snap at Gia.

"So you're in charge now, princess?" Beau said. His face was bloody from his recent beating, but his tone with still tinged with smug condescension. "Fascinating."

Leolin ignored him, eying trained on Gia now.

"Open the door, Gia. I won't tell you again."

"I know what you think of me," Gia said to Beau. "Why should I save you? If our places were reversed, you'd probably leave me here. Just another slave in chains, right?"

"You gave me your word that you'd follow orders," Leolin snarled, growing a little manic as Xavier and Brin re-emerged, an unconscious and badly bruised Max between them. "Now open the fucking door, or I will snap your wand."

Gia grit her teeth, but Draco emerged from the darkness, and some of the tension seeped from her shoulders.

"Giacomina," he said in a reproachful tone. "Do as she says. _Now_."

Gia looked wounded by the sharpness of his rebuke, and reluctantly drew her wand and blasted the lock on the door. Her peridot eyes glittered with searing hate as she extended a hand down to Beau.

"I already like you better than your brother," he said, wincing a little as he rose to his feet. "You're certainly more fun to look at."

With a hiss, Gia raked her long nails across his cheek, and he yowled.

"Merlin!"

He looked at Leolin with indignation, but she shook her head.

"You deserved that," she said to him.

There was more she could have added, perhaps, but suddenly Draco was brushing past Gia, grabbing Beau by his tattered collar and nearly hauling him off his feet.

"Where is she?" he grit out in a low, dangerous tone.

"Who?" Beau croaked, though Leolin could tell by the dark pain in his eyes that he knew _exactly_ who.

"Genevieve," Draco said. "Where is she?"

Beau's jaw tightened but he said nothing, and Draco slammed him against the bars.

"Answer me!" he said, slamming Beau back again. "Or I swear to Merlin, we will fucking leave you here to rot."

"Upstairs," came the weak reply. It was Reagan, and Draco slackened his grip, letting Beau slide boneless to his haunches, coughing. "They're keeping her in a cage in the receiving hall."

Leolin felt her heart fall into her gut as Draco let out a shuddering exhale.

"Fuck," he breathed to himself, driving his hands into his hair.

Finally, he turned to Leolin, eyes a well pool of pain.

Everyone else was looking at her now, too, and she could feel tears in her throat. Finally, she shook her head, forcing herself to look back at Draco. At seeing her expression, his breathing increased, growing more manic.

"Drake," she croaked, shaking her head. "I'm sorry. We'll have to come back for her when we're more prepared."

Draco pressed the heels of his hands against his closed eyelids, chest rising and falling more rapidly. Leolin could see in his posture he was getting ready to do something reckless, and it set her nerves to torch.

"Draco, I—" she began, but it was too late.

"No, fuck that," he said quietly, though there was no malice in his tone.

"Drake!" Leolin screamed as he tore off, bounding off towards the stairs.

"Oh goddamnit!" she whined, turning back. " _Fuck!_ "

Finally, she looked at Felix, who was already shaking his head.

"No, Leolin—"

She ignored him.

"Gia," she snapped, feeling breathless herself. She was already drawing her katana and extending it with a cool snap. "You and Brin help Reagan. Taylor, you and Xavy help Max and get out of here. Ren, you're with me."

"Leolin, no," Xavier, his expression like thunder. "Do _not_ do this."

"I'm not leaving him!" she practically screamed. "Now, Felix."

"Lefevre—" Beau cautioned, even as he slid an arm under Max's unconscious form.

"That's an order!" she said. "Ren!"

She tore off after Draco, Felix behind her as she took the stairs three and four at a time. They caught up to him at the mouth of a well-lit hall. He stood taut as a bowstring, listening to the voices echoing down the corridor.

"—gone after Lefevre," Geoff Blackburn was saying. "He thinks it has something to do with the IAO's strike last week. Could be they're planning a second assault."

" _Drake_ ," Leolin hissed, still several steps below him in the safe shadow of the curved wall. " _Get back here!"_

"Or it's a feint," Tedd Nott replied. "We ought to secure the area just in—"

Leolin strained to grab the back of Draco's jacket even as he bounded into the hall, firing a killing curse that Geoff deflected.

Leolin swore as she followed, wand in her left and sword in her right.

She slashed at Marcus Flint, who had been with them, sending him reeling back in a spray of blood even as she hurled a protego in Geoff and Teddy's direction. It seemed to stop whatever Geoff was attempting to do, but Teddy sidestepped into even as he pulled the recurved bow he'd been carrying taut. The arrow flew through the air with a whistle, slamming into Draco's chest only inches from his heart.

"Drake!" Leolin croaked, throwing her arm up almost blindly and blocking a hex from Geoff even as Draco wrenched the arrow from his stiff protective vest with a pained snarl.

Leolin felt a momentarily wash of relief before being forced to turn away and perry another hex from Teddy.

Taking advantage of the chaos, Felix managed to blast Geoff thirty feet down the hall, where he hit the side panel with a sickening crack. He turned then, too, only in time to catch Draco as he stumbled sideways. Felix wrenched the vest off as Draco gave a shuddering breath, as if he was losing oxygen. The arrowhead had only gone in half an inch or so, but as Draco heaved again, Felix grabbed the arrow, examining the tip.

"Lai," he croaked, dark eyes finding hers. "It's been poisoned."

Leolin forgot to breath as she glanced down at them. There was sweat already beading on Draco's brow, and she could see the muscles in his chest in stomach tightening in pain. She moved to collapse beside him before remembering Teddy with a swelling panic. She glanced up only in time to see him sprinting down the hall. She fired a curse which missed, and she felt her heart hurtling practically to the back of her tongue as he pulled a comm from his belt.

"Adrian!" he screamed. "She's here!"

She thought to go after him, but Draco gave a wet groan, rooting her in place.

"God _damn_ it!" she said, watching Teddy disappear before sinking to Draco's side and brushing his platinum hair away from his face.

"It's spreading," Felix said. "And it only missed his heart by a little. We have to do something."

"I'm—" Draco croaked, but his eyelashes had begun to flutter, his head weaving like a serpent's.

"Goddamnit," Leolin pleaded again, touching Draco's cheek, which was now a searing scarlet, alive with fever.

Leolin forced out a steadying breath through trembling lips, swiping at the tears of adrenaline in her tears. She then took another, fighting down the panic long enough to remember Kelly's warning about the poison and the bows, and the small vial of antidote he'd given her. She uncorked it and jammed it against Draco's lips. He gagged as it went down before going limp, knocked unconscious by the potion. Leolin rocked back on her heels, trying to forgot how close to ruin they'd just come.

"Get him out of here," she finally said to Felix, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand rising to her feet. "I'm going after Gen."

"Absolutely not," Felix snapped. "Not by yourself. Leolin, Pucey is on his way! He _cannot_ catch you."

"Felix," she grit out. "That's an order."

"No," Felix repeated, trying to struggle out from beneath Draco's pliant form as she retracted the katana and stuffed it into her belt. "No fucking way."

"I'm not going to leave her," Leolin said, gritting her teeth so hard her jaw ached. "And if Draco dies on your watch, I will never forgive you."

"Lai," Felix pleaded, reaching for her arm. "Come with us!"

It was too late; she was already wrenching from his grasp and tearing down the hall, Felix's protests fading into a distant echo.

Mentally she calculated how long she had. If Adrian was in London, it would be at least ten minutes before he would be back. Even if he could apparate straight onto the grounds, she was sure there were wards around the palace itself. Besides, even the Lord Protector would have to unlock certain charms to get in and out of London.

She was running so fast her feet where barely brushed the carpet, and by the time she reached the new gilt doors of what had once been the ballroom, her lungs were about to burst. She used all of her remaining strength the heave them open. They slammed shut behind her, plunging the room into darkness as she threw up every protective spell she could remember. The hall was empty, bathed only light from the windows set into the gallery, and her footsteps rebounded against the bare marble walls as she hurried towards the dais. She looked around wildly before a flash of metal caught her eye, and as she turned to face it more fully, she felt the breath almost knocked out of her.

"Oh my _gods_ ," she said as she approached a handsome birdcage that hung suspended from the ceiling.

She peered through the bars as the pile of rags inside stirred, and she couldn't fight back a sound that was half hoarse scream, half sob. Genevieve looked like a skeleton, her skin parchment white and covered in ugly scratches. Her dark eyes had sunken into her skull, making her look almost feral, and she shrunk back at seeing Leolin, like a beaten dog.

"Genevieve," Leolin croaked. "It's Leolin. I have to get you out of here."

"No," Gen whispered. "Leave me."

"No," Leolin said, extending a hand through as tears stung her eyes. "I won't."

"Please, just leave me," Gen said in a broken voice, though it was clear she was too weak to cry. "I deserve this."

Leolin's eyebrows synched together, and despite everything, she could feel wetness on her cheeks.

"No one deserves this," she breathed, drawing her wand. "Stand back."

"No!" Gen said, voice rising. "You can't use that in here!"

Leolin glanced up, realising she was right. She could smell the faint aroma of dark magic on the air, which was thicker than it ought to have been. The room's energy was buzzing with untold power, but it was almost extremely unstable. Suddenly Leolin was surprised she'd been able to lock the door without bringing the vaults in the ceiling down.

"Gen, we have to go," Leolin pleaded. " _Please."_

Gen only whimpered, the sound growing to a feral cry as Leolin extended the katana again and smashed the lock with its enchanted blade. It shattered with a crack even as the door boomed open, letting into a wide beam of light.

"Genevieve!" Leolin pleaded as she swiveled, raising her katana to face off with the intruder. "Get _up_!"

"Leolin," a voice purred. "My _queen_. Welcome home."

Adrian was backlit but the light from the hall, but even in semi-darkness his eyes glinted. He too was armed, a handsome curved shamsir engraved with gold and silver swinging at his left hip. However he made no move to draw it or his new wand, which was slid into a holster at his thigh. Kelly had told her he'd had it made from the heartstring of a Sphynx—a feat that had never even been attempted before—and even from a distance, she could sense it's keen, intelligent power.

"Miss me?" Leolin asked, instinctually backing up.

She could hear Gen struggling from the cage behind her, and she suddenly found herself wondering how she was even going to slip Gen past Adrian. She couldn't, she realised. Not unless she managed to incapacitate him first. Her fingers tightened on the leather pommel of the katana, even as they itched for her wand. Still, she couldn't risk it. One wrong move and she could bring the ceiling down on all their heads.

"More than you know," he replied. "But I knew you'd be back eventually. Hero's complex, and all that."

Adrian watched her adjust her grip again with no small degree of amusement, as if she were a child with a toy.

""If that's true," Leolin said, retreating further to protect Gen, who was down from the cage but cowering, half-crouched, on the floor. "How is it I managed to clear your dungeons? You're too late, AD; they're already gone."

Adrian laughed, baring white teeth.

"You think I care?"

He was no less than ten feet from her now, though his movements remained unhurried. She knew what he was doing: waiting for her to make a rash move. They both knew she'd have to make a big gesture, and soon, but it was always easier to react than it was to catch someone who was waiting for you off-guard; Xavier had taught her that.

"So what have you got on under that vest, Lef?" he goaded. "I can't _wait_ to find out."

"Get bent," she snarled, and he gave another deep laugh, though something ugly had begun to pool in his molten eyes.

"Classy."

"Gen," Leolin breathed, reaching blindly back for the other girl's hand. "When I tell you, get ready to run."

At this Adrian took off like a shot, and Leolin reached for her belt, feeling Crixus curl around her index finger. She flung her arm out the way she'd seen Rolf do, and Crixus unfurled, swooping at Adrian and making him cry in surprise.

"What the fuck!" he demanded, reaching up to slash at the creature even as Crixus arched out of his reach.

"Gen, now!" Leolin screamed, pushing Gen in front of her as she attempted to flee back towards the double doors. She could still hear Crixus's shrieks, but as she turned to run, she felt a vice on her arm, and she cried out.

"Got you," Adrian snarled as she attempted to wrench from his grip. However, he'd caught her sword arm, rending it unusable. "Oh Leolin, the things I am going to do to you."

"Get off!" she said in a panic, and as he attempted to pull her flush against him, Crixus arched back, knocking him off his feet. He parried the Evil's attempt to puncture his skull, and Leolin only had enough time to draw her wand and blast him back twenty or so feet. The air shuddered, the marble pillars seeming to tremble in fear, or in fury, Leolin couldn't tell. Not stopping to think, she raised her wand and fired a hex at the fan vault above. The stone shattered with a drum-rattling crack, and Leolin grabbed Gen's wrist and tugged her away, back towards the dais, even knowing there was no exit. It was better than trying to risk getting past Adrian again.

"Crixus!" she screamed, not daring to look back as Adrian screamed in frustration, demolishing Leolin's vain hope that the stones would crush him. "To me!"

She felt the creature brush by her ear as she raised her wand and blasted the thick marble wall with a savage _B_ _ombarda!_

She stuffed Gen through the wreckage into the corridor, clumsily repairing the damage behind them. The corridor was—for the moment—empty, and Leolin all but collapsed against the wood panelling, heaving. When she'd had a chance to catch her breath, she glanced down at Gen, who was even worse than Leolin had though. Leolin could see the ridges of her spine, and her once glossy hair was matted and half torn out. She looked away, feeling her heart clench.

"Goddamnit," she said mostly to herself as she surveyed their surrounding. "Where the fuck are we?"

If she'd turned right to get into the throne room and they'd come through the left wall, didn't that mean she was back in the hall she'd started in? Leolin looked down to catch her, noticing a smear of blood on the carpet twenty yards ahead of them. Draco's blood. Oh thank _Merlin._

"C'mon," she said, wrenching Gen to her feet and half dragging her down the hall. "Time to go."

"Where's Draco?" Gen pleaded, and even now, after everything she'd seen, Leolin felt a dull stab of fury.

"Nevermind that. We have to go."

"No, wait!" Gen said, eyes wide, dominating her gaunt face. "There is something I have to tell you!"

"Tell me later," Leolin insisted. "Right now we need to focus on getting out of here."

"No, Leolin," Gen said. "Listen to me!"

"Not right now!" Leolin said, but Gen wasn't to be dissuaded. She was positively manic now, and Leolin could tell her protestations were falling on deaf ears.

"Lucius," Gen said, digging her heels into the carpet and managing to stop up short. "That diadem he wears. He can take people's magic, absorb it."

At this, Leolin did stop moving, mouth going bone dry as she turned back to Gen.

"What did you just say?"

Gen nodded, tears in her eyes.

"I've seen it. I—I don't think he can do it all the time, but it can be done."

"Oh _Merlin,_ " Leolin breathed, and a wash of dizzyness fell over her.

"You're in danger," Gen continued, eyes still half wild. "Terrible, terrible danger."

Leolin shook her head.

"All the more reason to go, then. C'mon!"

It was too late; there were more voices approaching. Not stopping to find out if Adrian had managed to double back or if it was someone else, she broke into a jog, dragging Gen behind her.

"Gen! Please, we're almost there!"

No sooner had she said it than Geoff Blackburn reappeared, his own bow drawn. He was aiming for Gen, but Leolin lunged at him as the arrow released, knocking him to the ground. She leapt onto his chest even as his comm blared.

"Blackburn!" It was Adrian. "Where. is. she?"

" _Imperio_ ," Leolin hissed. "Tell him I went out the main gate. Tell him we're headed for the lake."

"Front door," Geoff repeated. "I think she's headed for the lake. I'm on her tail."

Adrian's voice dissipated, and Leolin dug her knee harder into Geoff's chest, hearing his sternum splinter under the pressure.

"Please," he grit out, dark, beady eyes full of fear. "Don't hurt me."

Leolin ignored him.

"This," she said, drawing her wand. "Is for what you did to my friend Sweeney. _Avada Kadavra."_

The light in his eyes guttered out, and Leolin rolled off of his corpse. She ran a trembling hand through her hair before wiping a rebellious tear from her cheek.

"Gen," she said, finally turning. "Are you—"

The words died in her throat as she watched Gen draw an arrow from her calf, wincing.

"I'm sorry," she said weakly, looking with at Leolin. There were already black tendrils spidering, albeit slowly, up from small puncture wound.

"It's alright," Leolin said at once, voice quaking. "No, it's—you're going to be fine. We're going to get out of here. Just hang on, okay?"

She pulled Gen into a a clumsy bridal carry, stumbling down the stairs back into the dungeon. Leolin didn't have to fly all the way back. She only had to get outside the barrier, then she could apparate, consequences be damned. Ten minutes, top. And Langdon was already at the abbey, and they had more of the antidote.

"Leolin, I'm sorry," Gen said. Leolin arms ached from the effort of carrying Gen, skinny though she was, and when they reached the bottom she set her down, stringing an arm around Gen's skeletal back and hoisting her off her bad leg.

They were in view of the round cellar door when Gen collapsed, breath ragging.

"Please, Gen," Leolin pleaded, trying to dragging her back up. "We're almost there."

However, Gen didn't seem to hear her. She'd gone even paler, and Leolin watched in abject horror as tendrils of bluish smoke began rising from her heaving chest, coagulating into shimmering figures. Memories, Leolin realised.

There was a small girl, no more than six or seven, in tears, tugging at the suitcase an older woman was carrying. The woman wore a coat and hat, and it was clear she was leaving.

"Please Mamma," the girl begged. "Don't go!"

"Genevieve," the woman snapped in a cold drawl. "Let go. It's unladylike to whine."

"Then take you with me!"

"Genevieve," her mother repeated. "Let _go_."

With a savage tug, she wrenched the suitcase from Gen's grip.

"You're being dramatic, Sweet Pea," she said somewhat sourly. "I'll be back."

"When?" Gen asked.

"As soon as I settle things with your father."

Gen seemed to have resigned to her unhappy fate, because she was hiccuping and rubbing at her eyes.

"Don't do that," her mother chided, pulling at Gen's wrists. "You'll ruin your lashes. Now give Mamma a kiss."

Gen only sobbed in response, and her mother pressed a firm kiss to her cheek before disappearing through a shadowy door.

The scene changed, and suddenly Gen was around thirteen or fourteen, shockingly blonde and sitting sullenly amongst a mountain of presents.

"What's wrong, Honey Bee?" a man said, sinking down next to Gen. "Do you not like your presents? We can go get you something else tomorrow if you want."

"Daddy, stop," Gen said, brushing off her father's hand on her back. "You're being annoying."

He sighed.

"I know you're disappointed, Genevieve, but I told you this might happen."

Gen huffed.

"She said she'd be here."

"Well you know your mamma isn't too good at keeping her promises."

"Too you, maybe," Gen said savagely. "You're the reason she left in the first place! Merlin, Daddy, do you have to be such a sycophant?"

"Genevieve!"

"Well, it's true!"

"No," her father said more sternly. "It isn't. Listen to me, Genevieve: your mother is a selfish, wicked woman, and she's only ever done what she wants. There was nothing in the world I could do to change that."

Leolin watched the hurt flash in the holograms of Gen's eyes, and her father sighed again, more deeply this time.

"To love is to destroy," he father pressed. "And to be loved is the be the one destroyed. That's what happened between your mamma and me; we destroyed each other."

Gen burst into tears at once, brushing off her father's attempt to comfort her as she took off running.

Suddenly Gen was full grown, looking fresh-faced and angelic, and Draco was at her side. Behind them Leolin could make out the _Leolin and Leantes_ statue from the Louvre, and despite everything, it made her chest ache. She already knew what this had to be.

"It's just so universal," Gen was saying, dark eyes sparkling. "At the end of the day, all any of us want is to love someone this much, and to be loved by them in return."

When Draco didn't reply, simply touched her cheek, she smiled.

"Don't you think?" she pressed.

"Yes," Draco breathed, rubbing his thumb softly across Gen's porcelain skin.

Leolin watched in dull anguish as Draco surged forward, kissing Gen heatedly. She responded in kind, and he swept her gracefully off her feet, continuing his assault as she draped her arms across his shoulders.

"I love you," he breathed as he eased her back to the floor.

Leolin thought about how few times she'd heard him tell Gen that, and where it had always been a balm before, it now made her feel sick.

Gen touched his cheek.

"I love you, too."

She stood on tip-toes to press her forehead to his. They stood in silent for a moment before he softly kissed her again. Finally, she pulled away, looking down at the map.

"Right," she said, smiling at him warmly. "Should we go look at da Vinci's mysterious lady?"

She turned, still holding his hand, but he didn't move, tugging her back instead.

"Wait," he said, looking uncharacteristically nervous, though there was an equally as uncommon giddiness beneath it. "I want to say something first."

Gen gave him a quizzical look.

"Alright," she said, smiling a little. "Go ahead." "Draco," Gen said when he didn't reply, smile broadening as she touched his cheek again. "Are you alright, darling?"

He nodded, taking both his hands. Leolin held her breath, the pressure of the air trapped in her lungs forcing two tears down her cheeks.

"Listen," he began. "When I met you, I'd convinced myself I wanted to spend my life on my own, and I meant it. But everyday I've been with you, you've made me more and more sure I no longer want to be alone."

Realisation was dawning on Gen, but slowly, and she nodded but said nothing.

"You're not always easy to like," he said, and she gave a sheepish laugh. "But I've always found you incredibly easy to love."

Leolin let out a choked sob as he pulled a small velvet box from his pocket and got down on one knee.

"Genevieve Margaux Beauchene," he said. "Will you marry me?"

The scene faded for what Leolin was sure must be one of the final times, and the tears ran unchecked down her face as the Athenos villa materialised.

Draco stood with his back to Gen, Marina at his side. His shoulders were pinched back, and his head was bent.

"Draco?" Gen called, and they both turned before trading a meaningful look. Marina touched Draco's forearm lovingly.

"I'm going to get Myles and Aleco out of bed. We'll be in the kitchen when you're ready."

Gen and Draco watched her go in silence, Rodames padding after her. When they were alone, Draco turned back to the searing dawn, washed blue and gray by the memory's dark hue. The sea was ablaze with light, and it sparkled like a chest of silver pesetas.

"Are you alright?" Gen asked, brushing a hand down his back. The muscles tensed at her touch, and she let it drop. Leolin could sense, through the memory's power, the depth of Gen's agony, and it was one she realised she knew well.

"I don't think you slept a wink last night," Gen continued.

"I didn't," Draco affirmed, sighing.

It was clear he didn't have to heart to look at her.

"Are you worried about Ginny and Blaise?"

He shook his head. "They made it back through. They're at their safe house now."

Gen nodded before falling silent.

"I'm leaving soon," Draco said tightly, finally glancing at her. His gaze was searing, and Leolin saw Gen flinch back slightly. She was suddenly desperate to escape what he was about to say, even as part of her yearned to hear him say it.

"You can't," Gen said in a doleful voice. "The border is sealed."

"Aleco's making me a key."

"It's too dangerous," Gen protested, grabbing his arm. "I won't let you."

He pulled his arm away, a bone-crushing candor in his eyes.

"Gen," he croaked. "I—I can't stay. I'm going back to Germany."

She bit her lip, and Leolin could feel Gen trembling feebly in her lap, rocking by silent sobs. Her eyes were closed, but she must have been seeing what Leolin was.

"Why?" Gen begged without hope.

"You know," Draco said sorrowfully. "You have to know by now."

"Drake—" she reached for him and he recoiled.

"I'm sorry," he breathed. "But I can't pretend anymore."

"Draco—"

"Please," he breathed. "Please don't."

She'd begun to cry now in earnest, and the desperation in it made Leolin's heart _hurt_.

"I love her, Gen," Draco pleaded softly. "I always have. I thought I could stop, but I—I can't. I have to go to her. To _be_ with her. I'm sorry, but I can't marry y—"

The memory snapped like a steel wire being cut, and the next few came in horrid snatches.

They were in Adrian's flat, and he was leaning towards Gen, teeth bared in a rictus grin.

"I want to make something inescapably clear," he announced. "After I win Draco back for you, I'm going to rip Leolin's life in two, and you're going to help me do it. I won't do all your dirty work for you. If you really want this, you're going to have to come claim it yourself. Understood?"

Gen nodded mutely. She was shaking like a dead leaf.

"Still think you want my help?"

"Going once."

Gen gave no answer, and Leolin could see twenty five years of abuse and pain shining in her eyes.

"Going twice."

Leolin let out another gutteral sob.

"Going three times. Last chance, Genevieve. Do you want Draco back or not?"

Now they were in at the Ministry of Magic, in Lucius's office.

"Give me what I want or lose the only love you've _ever_ have," Lucius pressed.

"I can't!" Gen burst.

"Give me the kingpin and I'll give you you're happy ending."

"There are hundreds of lives at risk!"

"Give me a name now and I promise to give the kingpin a quick, painless death. Fail to tell me and I flay the skin from his bones."

"He trusted me!"

"Last chance, Genevieve," Lucius warned. "It's now or never. Give me what I want before I change my mind and give Leolin and Draco the happy ending they're both so desperate for!"

There was more, Lucius slinking behind Gen and forcing her over the desk, and Leolin suddenly remembered what Luna had said about Swooping Evil venom, and she squeezed two drops onto Gen's pale tongue, dissipating the memory with a hiss.

"I'm sorry," Gen gasped, eyes dim as she glanced up at Leolin. She gave a dry, wrenching sob, though her cheeks remained dry. "Leolin, I'm so sorry."

Leolin was momentarily struck dumb, trying to fight her way through everything she'd just seen. She'd read once that after an avalanche, people often died because they'd lose their orientation and dig down instead of up, all the way to their own destruction. She felt that way now, unsure which way she ought to be digging. She gave a shuddering sob as Adrian's cruel grin flashed across her eyelids, as she heard the promise Gen made to seal her fate. The pain of it, the fury it dredged up, was overwhelming, and Leolin found herself burrowing into in. However, she thought of the six year old who'd been unable to convince her own mother to stay, and it seemed to be dragging her back. She'd spent the last six years mired in an agony over losing Draco she could never share, but suddenly she found that grief, that singular, unknowable grief, joining with Gen's, and she felt herself break the surface, breathing free air.

"I know," she breathed, pressing her forehead to Gen's. Her skin had grown cold. " _And I forgive you_."

She could feel the life draining out of Gen, and with it, all the enmity Leolin had ever borne her.

"Take care of him," Gen whispered. "You—"

She sought to take another breath before continuing, but it never came, and as she fell still, Leolin began to sob outright again, burying her face in the brittle straw of Gen's hair. "I'm sorry," she croaked, not sure even what she was sorry for.

She had no idea how long she stayed there, clinging to Gen's corpse, but when she heard the distant echo of voices, she struggled up.

"I'm sorry," she said again, but this time she knew for what. If she tried to take Gen's body with her, she'd never make it. Besides, she couldn't let Draco see her like this; despite everything, Leolin knew it would destroy him.

Drawing her wand, she hastily assembled a pyre, laying Gen atop it with difficulty before setting it ablaze and tearing off towards the door. No longer caring, knowing now that it didn't matter, she blasted it apart, barreling through it and up the steep incline of the shoot at a hand run. She scambled up it determinedly, fingernails clawing at the dirt as she found her way forward. Just when she thought she had no more energy, she felt her mouth fill with icy water, and she sputtered and gasped as she emerged.

She leapt out of the fountain still trembling, though it was a sensation she found neither a drying spell nor a warming one to dispel. At first she thought it was grief, but she realised after a moment it was a kindling rage. Rage at Lucius, who'd forced such unspeakable evils on Gen, and at Adrian, who she still had half a mind to go back and kill. Finally, she found with surprise, rage at Draco, whose recklessness had put the final nail in Gen's coffin. If he hadn't been so willful, she could have gone back, could have saved Gen another day. _But you did save her_ , a small voice echoed _._

Leolin swung into the saddle and tore off into the night, steering the Thestral, without totally meaning to, towards Scotland instead of Wiltshire. After an hour or so she even drifted into discontented sleep. She nearly slipped out of the saddle when the beast landed on the grounds of the abbey in the last hour before dawn, righting herself at the very last moment.

There was a lone figure sitting half-slumped on the stoop but at the Thestral's wickering they sprang up, sprinting over and crushing Leolin into a hug.

"Jesus Christ," Felix breathed into her hair. "Oh, thank Merlin."

She wrapped her arms gratefully around him, breathing in the clean scent of his soap. He'd clearly showered since arriving back.

"How's Draco?" she said automatically. "Is he alright?"

"He's fine," Felix confirmed. "He's been asking for you."

She nodded, pulling away a feeling oddly exposed. Felix sought to read her expression, and it was only when he failed that he finally spoke.

"Gen?" he asked in a soft voice, and Leolin bit her lip before shaking her head.

"I'm so sorry, lapin. What happened?"

Her throat had gone dry.

"I don't really want to talk about it."

He nodded his understanding.

"Go see Draco, then. He's been half mad waiting for you to get back."

She wasn't sure what to say to that, but she was spared from doing so entirely when a second figure emerged from the large front doors, a healer's satchel in one hand.

"Langdon," Leolin breathed, recognising the eldest Blackburn brother. A sudden flash of Geoff Blackburn's blank eyes shuddered across her vision, but she blinked it away. "How are Ginny and the baby?"

Langdon gave a warm smile.

"Both are excellent."

"Boy or girl?" Leolin asked eagerly.

"A healthy little girl. five pounds, ten ounces."

"Oh my gods," Leolin choked. "A _girl_."

"Ginevra's been asking for you," he said. "She's resting now, but I'm sure she'll want to know you're back."

"Of course," Leolin said, smiling for the first time in what felt like ages. "I'll go there now."

She practically bowled Langdon over in her haste to get to Ginny's room, and she knocked impatiently, selfishly hoping Ginny wasn't asleep.

"Gin, it's Leolin. Can I come in?"

"Of course," came a hushed reply. "It's open."

Leolin pushed the door over and immediately covered her mouth with her hands. Ginny sat reclined, copper hair a wild tangle of curls, looking more beautiful than Leolin had ever seen her.

"Oh my days," Leolin gushed, quickly shedding her dirty vest and shirt and scourgifying her hands as she sank down next to Ginny in just her bra. "Can I hold her?"

Her voice was eager as she extended her arms, and Ginny smiled, handling the small pink bundle over with the utmost care.

"Oh my days," Leolin repeated as the baby opened her eyes, which were chocolate brown like Ginny's. She had skin the colour of toffee and a tuft of textured black hair, more than Leolin had ever seen on a baby. "Gin, she's so perfect."

"I know," Ginny choked before laughing. "Sorry, my mummy hormones are all out of whack."

Leolin smiled.

"So how was the Niffler milk?"

Ginny laughed.

"A _godsend_. I swear, I'll never doubt Luna again."

Leolin felt something tug at her. Crixus had taken flight the minute they'd reached the surface, no doubt going back to Luna and Rolf.

"Neither will I," she said in a soft voice. "I think hat Swooping Evil might have saved my life tonight. Or at the very least, saved me from—"

She broke off, looking down at the baby instead. Ginny seemed to sense she shouldn't press her, and they surveyed the small bundle in awed silence.

Leolin touched the baby's silkin cheek, her heart melting in to puddy. "She's the perfect mix of both of you," she breathed finally. "And so _beautifu_ l. Merlin, Blaise is gonna have a bitch of a time fighting the boys off."

"Oh believe me, he's already started," Ginny said, leaning over and letting the baby wrap and tiny fist around her index finger. "Gia's poor friend Brin came by earlier, and Blaise wouldn't even let him hold her."

"Poor Brin," Leolin cooed at the baby. "Desperately in love with a girl who'll never give him the time of day but threatened by her brother anyway."

"I know," Ginny said in the same, sing-song soft voice. "But he'll figure it out eventually, won't he, Sugar Plum?"

The baby gurgled softly.

"Do you have a name yet?"

Ginny shook her head.

"We'd tentatively agreed on Niccola before she was born, but I don't know. She just doesn't feel like a Niccola to me. Besides, don't tell Nik, but I hate the name Nikki. Too much like a prostitute."

Leolin laughed.

"So I guess she'll just have to be Baby Z until we figure something else out."

Leolin glanced down at the tiny bundle in her arms, tracing the baby's nose. It was small as a button now, but Leolin could see that when she got older it would be long and straight like Blaise's. Her dark, hooded eyes were already lined with soft, feathery lashes. They were blonde—delicate as fairy wings—but they'd soon be as dark as her hair. She was beautiful, and she deserved a name to match. Something churned in Leolin's gut as she continued to study the newborn. Leolin already knew what the baby's name should be, but she realised she had to let go of it herself first, relinquish ownership of it and accept it was no longer hers to covet.

"Ava," she said softly, looking up at Ginny. "You should call her Ava."

Ginny looked equal parts elated and stricken.

"Oh Lai, but you and Draco—"

Leolin laughed softly, looking down at Ava, whose lids had grown heavy.

"We'll find something else," she assured Ginny. "Or maybe I'll give Drake his way and we'll only adopt boys."

She tried to dance over the word 'adopt' gracefully, but stumbled, breath catching in her throat.

"Are you sure?" Ginny asked, and Leolin could hear the hope in her voice.

"Of course," Leolin said. "Look at her: she's definitely an Ava."

"She is, isn't she?" Ginny said dreamily.

As the girls sat watching Ava with adoration, heads pressed lovingly together, the door creaked open and Blaise entered.

"Lai," he said, visibly relieved. "You're back. Thank Merlin. Draco's awake, and he's been asking for you."

"Okay," Leolin said with flippancy, not taking her eyes off the baby, who'd now fallen completely asleep.

She watched Blaise and Ginny exchange a look before he slipped in the bed next to Ginny. Leolin passed the baby over, and he cradled her, jade eyes alight.

"Leolin suggested a name," Ginny said, resting her chin on Blaise's shoulder.

"Oh yeah?" Blaise said, angling his head to softly press a kiss to Ginny's cheek.

"Ava," Ginny said.

"Ava," he repeated, looking back at his newborn daughter. "I love it."

Ginny beamed, awash in the glow of new motherhood.

"Ave Marie-Therese," Ginny said. "For her godmother."

Leolin felt a pleasant lump in her throat.

"You want me to be her godmother?" Leolin asked.

"Of course," Blaise said. "Who else?"

Leolin felt an elation swelling in her chest, but as it grew it seemed to knick the sorrow of everything she'd been through the past six hours, and without warning, she let out a sob, covering her face with her hands as her shoulders shook.

"Oh Lai," Ginny soothed. "Here, hold Ava."

Blaise passed the baby back, and Leolin tucked her into one arm and she swiped at tears with the other.

"Felix told me what happened," Blaise said after a beat. "I'm so sorry, darling."

"It was awful," Leolin admitted. "You should have seen how they were treating her; they were keeping her in a cage like an animal."

"That's barbaric," Ginny said with mild disgust.

"No one should be treated like that," Leolin continued. "Not even her. And in the end I couldn't even—"

She broke off, pressing her cheek to Ava's soft head.

"It's not your fault, Lai," Blaise said softly. "You did everything you could."

"But it wasn't enough," she said, thinking of the memories Gen had shown her and feeling sick to her stomach again.

"You set her free," Ginny amended. "You gave her exactly what she needed most."

Leolin looked down, soothed by Ava's weight in her arms.

"I should go," she said finally. "I'm exhausted, and I need a shower."

She pressed a soft kiss to Ava's forehead before passing her back to Ginny and rising from the bed, retrieving her shirt.

"Lai?" Blaise said as she reached the door. "Talk to Draco. I know you're angry with him, and I don't blame you, but he really needs you."

Leolin gave a nod before wearily ascending the few flights of stairs to her own bedroom. She stripped off her clothes and left them in a heap before loping doggedly into the bathroom. Stiffly she tugged her engagement ring off and set it into in a dish on the mantle before turning the shower to scalding hot and stepping in. She rinsed the grime off her skin and face, only to find a layer underneath that was not so easily washed away. Eventually the water began to grow cold. She wrapped a soft cotton robe around herself and instinctually turned to retrieve her ring only to realise—with dull panic—that it wasn't there.

"Are you looking for this?" a soft voice asked, and Leolin glanced up to find Draco standing in the doorway and holding up her ring. His eyes sparkled as brilliantly as the solitaire on her band, but she only brushed past him, ignoring the ring entirely.

"Lai," he said, voice uncharacteristically vulnerable. "Please, can we talk?"

"No," she snapped. "Go to Hell; I mean it."

"Leolin—"

"You have been ignoring me for _weeks_ ," she said in accusation. "And flirting with Gia and Merlin knows what else, and you choose tonight, after what you did, what you _put me through_ , to kiss and make up?"

"Flirting with Gia?" He began in confusion. "What are you—"

"Save it," she interrupted. She could feel herself beginning to lose it again, she just wanted to be alone. "I don't want to hear it. Get out."

"Leolin," he repeated, grabbing her arm gently. "Please, just listen to me."

"Why don't you trust me?" she demanded after a long pause, voice beginning to quake ever so slightly.

"Of course I trust you," he breathed, touching her cheek.

She batted his hand away, agitated.

"Then why didn't you listen to me tonight? I could have gone back for her, Drake; I _would_ have gone back."

"I know that," he pleaded.

"Then why did you do it?" she repeated, tears in her eyes. "She _died_ in my arms." Her voice fell to a whisper. "It was awful."

"I'm so sorry," he choked, earnest, pain-soaked gaze sweeping over her. "I never meant to put you through that. Sharpe said 'cage' and I snapped. I just kept telling myself that if I could save her, maybe—"

He broke off.

"Maybe what?"

He sighed.

"Maybe I could finally forgive myself for what happened in New Orleans and fix things between us. You were right, Lai. That was my fault, and I couldn't bear to be around you until I set it right. That's why I was avoiding you; I know I've been selfish, but I—I just couldn't bear facing how I'd hurt you."

"No," she croaked, pressing forward but not touching him. "How many times do I have to tell you? It was an incredibly cruel thing to say, and the truth is that if I didn't have you, it wouldn't matter if I could have kids or not." She broke off, finallly touching his cheek. "You are the only man I ever wanted to have children with, Draco Malfoy. Besides, we _are_ going to have children. A whole gaggle of them, I promise."

He pressed forward to brush his lips against hers.

"I love you," he choked. "I'm so sorry for everything I put you through, especially tonight. I—"

"I know, she said, lip trembling again. "And I'm sorry, too." she exhaled a breath. "I—I tried to save her, Drake. I really did."

"I know," he said, and his tone was pained. "Please don't be sorry; it was a terrible burden to put on your shoulders."

"I would bear any burden for you," she breathed, angling her face up towards his. "You know that."

He screwed his eyes shut, driving his hands into her hair and pressed his cheek to her temple.

"What did I ever do," he all but pleaded. "To deserve someone like you?"

"I love you," she replied.

"I love you, too," he said, fingers still entwined in her hair. "More than starlight."

She surged onto her tip-toes to kiss hip, her robe coming open as she sought to devour his mouth.

"Take me to bed," she demanded against his lips. "Make love to me, Drake."

He responded by pushing to robe into a pile on the floor before falling to his knees in front of her in carnal benediction.

* * *

Felix couldn't sleep even after Leolin got back, and he wondered aimlessly until just before sunrise, surprised when he found himself outside one of the abbey's many bedrooms. He raised his fist once to knock before thinking better of it and letting his hand drop. After all, it was five in the morning; what were the chances she was up?More importantly, what were the chances she'd want to see Felix? Fairly slim, he suspected. After everything he'd been through that evening—walking in on Leolin fucking Malfoy, the prison, the arrow, Gen—did he really want to heap on a hot serving of vitriolic rebuke? Not particularly, he decided. However, as he was turning towards the door, someone spoke.

"I can hear you standing out there, whoever you are," echoed a dry voice from inside the room. "You can come in; I'm still awake."

Felix opened the door with caution to find Reagan sitting up in bed and reading a book. She's showered, and her left eye—he noticed when she glanced up at him—was green again, the scar hidden behind a glamour. However, he realised it the first time he'd even seen her without makeup on, and he was surprised by how juvenile she looked.

"Oh," she said. "It's you."

It was about the response he'd expected, so he was mildly astounded when she actually closed the book and met his eye before letting hers bleed down to the edge of the bed, indicating he sit.

"So how do you feel?" he asked, knowing it was a stupid question but unable to think of something else to say.

"Better, now that I'm not behind one hundred pounds of iron," she said, voice flat.

Felix couldn't even begin to imagine all the horrible things she's seen and endured, but when he glanced up at her again, her expression was resolute and blazing with life.

"You look more yourself," he agreed, indicating her eye, and she smiled.

"I know, that scar's awful, isn't it?"

It was meant to be light and self-deprecating, but he could hear the sadness underneath it, and that surprised him, too.

"It's not ugly," he said. "Scars make us who we are."

"How poetic," she said, but her tone was playful more than scornful. "What about you, foxy-boy? Any good scars?"

Felix considered before tugging off his right boot and sock to reveal that much of his heel had been torn away.

"Merlin, that's bollocks!" she said, and he gave a wry grin.

"Bought a motorbike when I moved to Paris, and one night I decided to ride it drunk and barefoot. Voila."

She laughed even as she winced at the ugly scar again.

"You're an idiot," she said, and he laughed, too.

"So I'm often told. Well, I should let you get some rest. See you in the morning."

He rose to go, feeling almost giddy for how well that had went, when she called him back.

"By whom?"

He turned, confused.

"I'm sorry?"

"Who tells you you're an idiot? Lefevre?"

"She's been known to, yeah," he said, still confused.

"She's not the only one, you know," she said.

"One one of what?" he asked. "Who thinks I'm an idiot? I know; you've made it perfectly clear you do, too."

"That's not what I meant," Reagan said, rising from the bed. She was wearing a distractingly slinky set of pajamas. "I meant the only who sees you really are. I see the skinny, poor, lonely kid underneath all this—" she gestured at his hair and face with mild contempt. "I know that kid. Merlin, I _was_ that kid."

"Where is this coming from?" Felix said. "I thought you—"

Reagan cut him off by grabbing him by the lapels of the sweater he was wearing and kissing him. He was stunned at first, but when her fingers snaked up to twine in his hair, he let out a soft groan and deepened the kiss. Instinctually he pressed a hand to his low back, but when you leaned in and brushed against him meaningfully, he jerked back.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have—I'm going to go."

He turned, flushing to the door, and he could feel her cool stare on his back.

"You know she's never going to leave Malfoy for you. Never."

"What?" he said, turning around. "You've got it all wrong; I'm not in love with Leolin."

"I mean I get it," she continued, pretending as if he hadn't spoken at all. "She's all big tits and batted eyelashes. I kind of what to shag her myself, terrible personality aside. But she's Malfoy's creature, she has been since we were kids, and there is not a goddamn thing you can do about it. Not a one."

"Why do you care?" he demanded, getting a little heated now himself. "You hate me."

She considered this.

"Hate is a strong word," she said after a pause. "And besides," she said in a low voice, coming towards him again and brushing a feather light kiss on the corner of his mouth. "It's just sex, Chaisson."

"I should go," he all but pleaded, trying to remind himself that Reagan had just been through Hell, and it would be ungentlemanly, at the very least, to try and somewhat benefit from that.

"Stay," she said, rising on her tiptoes to tug at Felix's earlobe with her teeth and eliciting a groan from him.

"Reagan—"

"You can pretend I'm her, if you want," she offered. "I really don't care."

At this he frowned and pushed her off with gentle insistence.

"Goddamnit, woman, I'm not in love with Leolin!"

"It's not my business either way," Reagan pointed out, but there was a keenness in her eyes that betrayed her. "Pine after whoever you want."

"I don't want Leolin," he grit out. "I want you! How have you seriously not figured that out yet?"

She looked surprised—stunned, even—and she let her arms fall completely away from him as she took a step back. However, he countered it by taking one step closer.

"And I see you, too," he said, and there was something sparkling in her eyes he'd never seen before. Hope, perhaps? or yearning? Whatever it was, it urged him on, and he reached forward to touch her cheek. "You're not your damage, Reagan."

Her eyes slipped closed, and he admired the way her sooty lashes brushed her cheekbones before bringing his other hand up to cup her cheek and bending to kiss her. It was soft and gentle at first, just a silent communication of lips on lips. Only when she let out a soft sigh did he deepen it, his tongue sliding into her mouth and his fist tangled gentled in her hair, which was now back to her natural brown.

She pushed the sweater off his shoulder and slid her palms beneath the hem of his tee shirt.

"Oh god," she half whined against his lips. 'You have such a nice body."

He chuckled, pulling the shirt over his head before going back to kissing her. He could hardly believe they were here, that he was touching Reagan and she was letting him. His mind began racing ahead, began calculating what this might mean for them, whether it meant that even a fraction of his feelings towards her were returned, or could possibly be in the future. However, it all died away when she stepped a little out of his embrace and pulled off the silk tank top of her pajama set, leaving her bare to the waist.

Her pale chest and torso were covered in a smattering of bruises, their colour suggesting they were not fresh. Still, Felix longed to kiss every one, to run his hands over ever inch of her until nothing hurt.

"Kiss me," she insisted, her breasts pushing into his chest as they came together again.

He did so with enthusiasm, swallowing the desirable little noises she was making as he nipped and licked at her lips.

"Tell me," she said in an uncharacteristically earnest tone as they continued to kiss with abandon.

"Tell you what?" he said, breathless.

"Tell me you've never slept with Lefevre."

He stopped, pulling away slightly. Reagan's lips were cherry red and her hair was mussed, by her bicolor eyes were luminous. He brush her cheeks with his fingertips, afraid—in the face of her beauty, and the earnestness she never seemed to show any else—that he might forget his own name.

"Never," he assured her, and she responded by kissing him fiercely again, her fingers making quick work of his belt. When it had fallen to the carpet she tugged him by the beltloops towards the bed, urging him to settle on top of her.

"I hope you're as good in bed as you seem to think," she said, moaning quietly as he drove a hand into her knicker.

He grinned, lips against her neck.

"Oh, believe me, I'm much better."


	7. Chapter 7: The Stars and Stripes, Pt I

A/N: Okay so this is unrelated but very very important. If you haven't read Sarah J. Maas's Throne of Glass Series, drop what you're doing and read it immediately. The first book is admittedly slow, but believe me when I tell you that books 2-5 are worth it. AliceHelena and I have been geeking out about it for weeks. She also has a finished trilogy called _A Court of Thorns and Roses_ that is well worth a read. The male lead is perhaps the sexiest I've read in a long time, and it has a very realistic approach to relationships and sex while also having a colourful cast and good action. But damn though, it has nothing on _Throne of Glass_. If you love sassy heroines and having your heart ripped out (which you obviously do, if you're still reading this story) then go read it. Also, REVIEW!

* * *

 **Chapter Seven: The Stars and Stripes, Pt I**

* * *

Kelly strode up the stairs that led to the palace's upper library, trying to roll his neck and relieve the twinge that throbbed between his pinched shoulder blades. He had to seem calm—they would notice if he wasn't—but it had been over a month since he'd been granted leave, and it was grating on him. It was easy enough to pretend to be Adrian's dog most of the time since he was often relegated to spying and scouting, but the loneliness and the isolation were eating away at him. He'd woken up three mornings ago in a cold sweat, reaching for the empty half of the bed beside him and feeling a familiar panic rise when he acknowledged, for what felt like the millionth time, that Cara wasn't there.

He cracked his knuckles. Now wasn't the time for despair. Not when there was still so much hanging in the balance. He approached the door, exhaling a deep breath before relaxing into a languid pose that spoke of calm obedience. He then raised his fist to the door and knocked.

"Come in," a voice purred, and Kelly allowed himself one more steadying breath before doing as commanded.

The upper library was a small but well-appointed circular room, bookcases two stories tall lining the convex walls and a small window set into the apex of the domed ceiling, through which trickled muted moonlight. The rest of the room was lit by brass sconces dotted in between the columns of books.

Adrian glanced up from where he stood at the far side of the round table, eyes gleaming almost animal bright in the dimness.

"You asked for me?" Kelly began, ignoring Tate and Victoria's stares from either side of Adrian and keeping his gaze focused. He knew none of Adrian's inner circle would ever dare say it, but Kelly sensed none of them fully trusted him. Especially not Victoria, whose eyes seemed to track him from the time he entered a room until he left it.

Adrian poured himself a glass of wine from a pewter decanter, sat down, and kicked his polished boots onto the table in front of him.

"I need you to go to London tomorrow," he said, taking a sip. The others—Tate, Victoria, the Faulkner brothers, and several lesser Solarrii—remained standing. "To scout."

"Of course," Kelly said in a bland tone, forcing his pulse not to quicken. London meant freedom. London meant being able to go to Scotland and see Cara, and report back to the others. "What would you like me to scout?"

Adrian considered before replying.

"I want more details about the new fortifications on the American Embassy."

Kelly, despite himself, glanced at Tate, hoping to interpret how they planned to get in, or what they knew. Tate's only response was a hard-eyed stare, and Kelly slid his gaze back to Adrian as if the look had been merely coincidental.

"Surely that's suicide," Kelly said.

"Not this time," Adrian said, and Kelly could hear the self-satisfaction in his voice. It made him sick; it was the same tone he always used when he talked about Leolin. "The Emperor's found a way to get past their wards, so I want to know the best way in. We moved in two weeks. Less, if all goes according to plan."

Kelly fought the urge to look around at the others again, knowing it would seem suspicious. So he said instead, in a voice he hoped sounded casual, "May I presume that this has something to do with Malfoy and Lefevre?"

"Doesn't it always?" Leon, the younger Faulkner brother, said in a soft voice.

His brother Liam elbowed him in the ribs, suffocating Leon's glib comment with a crushing glare to be silent. However, Adrian didn't seem bothered by Leon's insolence, and he flashed a blithe smile instead, teeth gleaming.

"The Emperor is eager to see Draco back under his control, yes."

"So a trap," Kelly said, forcing his voice flat.

Adrian's eyes glittered, as if trying to read Kelly's blank expression. However, he must have been satisfied by what he saw, because he only smiled again, running a finger around the rim of his glass.

"A calculation," he corrected. "Either they show up, together, and we can use Lefevre to... _persuade_ Draco to give the Emperor what he needs, or they don't, and we root out a nest of vermin and remove the Americans from the board completely."

Kelly pretended to consider this admission with mild appreciation as his mind raced. Adrian had never admitted outright that Lucius needed Draco to anchor his magic. He had to tell Leolin so they could take the necessary precautions.

"Very impressive, My Lord, as always," he said. "I'll leave now and report back as soon as I have something."

"You can leave in the morning," Adrian said with a lazy swipe of his hand. "The Palace wards are already up, and I'm not in the mood to take them all down again."

Kelly forced himself not to react, though it took every bit of his frayed nerves to do it. He could have gotten all this information to Leolin five minutes ago, and it still wouldn't be nearly soon enough. Still, it would seem suspicious if he insisted, and in his pent-up state, he didn't think he had the finesse to talk his way out of trouble, should he stir it up. Besides, they were all still watching him, Victoria especially, one hand lazily tracing the length of her blackthorn wand.

"Sit down, Troy, and have a drink with us," Adrian said. "You look like you could use it."

Kelly only nodded his agreement and thanks as he did as he was bid, and Adrian smirked at his submission. He had a hunter's heart, Leolin had once said, and he delighted in collecting trophies. Kelly could tell how pleased he'd been to collect Kelly, and it was an effort not to grit his teeth at the thought. In the end, the only thing that cooled his blood was imagining the look on Adrian's face when he realised he'd been played, and that Leolin was going to kill him for his mistake.

There were soft scrapes as the others sank down as well, and Adrian turned to grin at Victoria as she refilled his goblet. Kelly accepted a glass from Leon and took a sip of the wine. He tried not to drink when he was in the Palace as it made his subtle mental wards harder to maintain, but today it was unavoidable. Besides, he didn't have to stop hating Adrian to admit he drank damn good wine.

The others drank as well, and Adrian angled his head to hear something that Victoria was saying to him as Tate and Will Avery began discussing the reforms at Hogwarts, which—though still under Professor McGonnagall's technical control—was being puppeteered by August Rookwood and Abner Travers. Kelly tipped his cup back to hide his gaze as he listened, filing the information for when he went to see Leolin tomorrow. He wished he could get a message out now to warn her, but it was too risky, especially if the wards truly were up for the evening.

Despite his languid posture, Adrian seemed to be waiting for something. Kelly noted his lambent eyes flicking to the door ever few minutes, and when a distant clock began to herald the ten o'clock hour, he grit his teeth in annoyance. However, he allowed Victoria to fill his glass again as Kelly did the same for himself, still keen to know what Adrian was waiting for. At a quarter past, he got his answer.

The door groaned open to admit Teddy Nott, still dressed in a dark traveling cloak, his waifish wife Astoria on his heels. Kelly had thought he was in rough shape, but compared to Teddy, he must have looked downright serene. The skin under Teddy's eyes was an unbecoming bluish grey, and there were wrinkles on his forehead Kelly could have sworn he hadn't had several months ago. Astoria, too, looked rather strained, though it did little to diminish her gods-given good looks.

"You're late," Adrian said, lip curling.

"I'm sorry," was all Teddy said, angling his chin down enough that he didn't have to look Adrian in the eye.

"Well?" the latter snapped. "What do you have for me?"

Teddy glanced at Will Avery, his closest friend, but Will casually looked away, seeming to sense he ought not to get involved.

"My Lord," Teddy began, a little desperation seeping in to his tone. "I—"

"Two weeks," Adrian said. "That's what you told me. Give me two weeks, and I will have The Order's location. It's been almost three, Nott. Do you have it or not?"

Teddy swallowed.

"No," he said softly. "I don't."

"Well that _is_ disappointing," Adrian said in a low snarl.

"It's an impossible job!" Teddy burst. "I'm sorry, but it is! Lef's clever; she's knows how to cover her tracks. They all do."

"If it was so goddamn impossible, then why did you volunteer for it?" Adrian demanded, teeth bared.

Kelly knew why; to protect Astoria and their son and nephews. To keep Adrian's focus elsewhere. Unfortunately, Adrian knew that, too, and his eyes slid to Astoria, drinking her in.

"Astoria," he said without preamble, eyes lingering on her a bit too long as his voice softened to a feline purr. "Forgive me. Please, come sit down."

Kelly saw Teddy tense, but he didn't stop her as she did as instructed, even pulling out her chair for her. Adrian gestured for Teddy to sit as well, and he slipped into the chair beside his wife, back stiff as a board. No one spoke as two more glasses of wine were poured, but Kelly could tell Adrian was gearing up to do something hateful.

"You look beautiful tonight," Adrian told Astoria after a beat, and she flushed.

"Thank you," she said, trading a glance with Teddy.

Adrian watched them with a mixture of amusement and contempt before his eyes slid to Kelly.

"Don't you think, Troy?"

Kelly almost choked on his wine.

"Excuse me?" he said as blandly as he could.

Adrian grinned, soaking in Kelly and Astoria's mutual discomfort.

"It's not a difficult question, Kelly," he said, still smiling. "Don't you think Astoria is beautiful?"

Kelly clenched his jaw, not daring to look at Astoria until he could get his expression under control. Finally, he let his eyes slide to her, guilt roiling at the embarrassment in hers.

"Of course," he said with a genteel inclination of his head. "You're lovely."

Astoria flashed a weak smile before reaching over to take her husband's hand. They both waited, breathless, to see if Adrian would continue, and both seemed relieved when he turned his attention back to Kelly instead.

"I imagine it's difficult for you," Adrian continued, swirling the wine in his glass and studying Kelly with pitying distain. "Sleeping alone every night."

Kelly pushed his shoulders up before dragging them back down, the best approximation of a shrug he could muster.

"I don't mind, my lord."

"But surely you miss your own wife," Adrian pressed, eyes glittering. "What's her name again?"

Kelly tensed slightly, but instead of directing the question to him, Adrian turned to Tate instead, brows furrowed in mock concentration. The jape wasn't enough to coax a smile out of Tate, but cruel amusement lined his eyes and the edges of his full lips.

"Cara," he supplied.

"Cara!" Adrian said, snapping his fingers. "That's right. She's awfully beautiful too, if memory serves," Adrian said. "You must miss her many... _charms_."

Kelly still couldn't tell quite where Adrian was going with this, but it made his stomach ache all the same, so tightly he was afraid he was going to heave up all the wine he'd consumed.

"I know I would," Adrian said, smirking as he surveyed Kelly for a reaction. However, Kelly wouldn't give him the satisfaction, even knowing he was going to burn in Hell for what he said next.

"No," he said, throwing every bit of himself into sounding almost bored. "I don't. She's a traitor, and rather unimaginative in bed."

At this Will Avery coughed a laugh, trading a look of mirth with Evan Rosier beside him.

"I see," Adrian mused, running a finger around the rim of his glass and studying Kelly. Though he too was smiling, his eyes remained cruel. "Maybe someone in the palace would be more to your liking, then."

He finally played his hand by glancing at Astoria again, and feeling his gaze on her, she blanched.

"What about you, darling?"

"Adrian—" Teddy began, but Adrian held up a hand.

"Stay out of this," he said with steel-edge laziness. "It doesn't concern you."

"She's my wife," Teddy all but pleaded.

"But not your property," Adrian snapped, baring gleaming white teeth. "Be quiet."

Here he looked back at Astoria, face softening into a seductive smile.

"What do you say, Astoria?"

She bit her trembling lip, not seeming to have the courage to look at Adrian, Teddy, or Kelly.

"I'm flattered, My Lord, of course, but I—"

"And what if I asked you to do it for me?" Adrian pressed, drinking in Teddy's growing dismay. "As a... _personal_ favour."

Astoria went even paler, skin the color of fresh parchment.

"I—"

"You do want to please me, don't you, Astoria?" he purred. Despite his tone, Kelly could hear the challenge in it, and it was enough to make him sick.

"Of course," she said.

"Well this would please me very much. Besides, it's not without it's perks for you, too."

At this, she went a little green, and Kelly could tell she was fighting not to cry.

"Just do it, Astoria," Liam Faulkner said in a soft voice, eyes trained on his plate.

Astoria ignored Liam and hazarded a glance to Teddy, as if pleading with him to intercede. However, in the end he only looked away from her, down to the polished stone floor.

"I—" Astoria started again, the rest of her sentence getting caught as she bowed her head cleared her throat.

"You?" Adrian pressed, palms flat as he leaned forward towards Astoria. Even with the entire circumference of the table between them, Astoria shrunk back a little in her chair. "C'mon, angelfish, don't be shy. I know better than anyone how adventurous you can be."

Her pale cheeks flamed scarlet, but she swallowed before pushing the corners of her mouth up in a pained smile.

"Of course, My Lord," she said, and Adrian's face split into a dazzling smile.

Kelly felt sick to his stomach as Astoria swiped at the liquid glass shining in her eyes.

"Excellent," Adrian said, settling back in his own chair and trading a look of mirth with Tate. "Then we won't keep you any longer. I'm sure you're both—" he paused, giving Teddy a triumphant smirk. "— _eager."_

Astoria gave a inhale that might have been a stifled sob, and Kelly turned so Adrian couldn't see him before squeezing his eyes shut to fend off the mounting panic. However, knowing that any more displays would seem suspicious, he turned after a moment and offered a genteel hand to Astoria, who took it with trembling fingers.

A tear slid down her cheek as they turned to the door, and Adrian called, "Consider this your incentive for a fruitful mission tomorrow, Troy. Be ready to leave no later than midday."

Kelly nodded his understanding, gritting his teeth before glancing over his shoulder and replying, "thank you, My Lord."

They descended the stairs in silence, and Kelly tried to ignore Astoria's quiet sobs as they made their way to his modest room in the West wing. He knew what he had to do, even knowing how risky it was. Still, it had to be done. He couldn't stomach the alternative. Besides, he was good at memory charms. Even if Adrian used Legimency, Kelly could—

They'd reached his room now, and he opened the door for Astoria, unable to meet her eye.

She was reaching for the buttons trailing down the back of her gown the minute the door snapped shut, and Kelly felt sick.

"Astoria," he said in a grave voice. "We don't have to do this."

She bit her lip, not pausing in her task even as her gaze fell to the floor.

"Of course we do," she said quietly. "He'll know if we don't."

She went back to the buttons, and he felt the guilt and panic roiling in his gut. If he did do this, even for the cause, how could he _ever_ look Cara in the eye again? He couldn't, was the answer. She would never understand, and he couldn't blame her for it.

"Please," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "Just stop."

At this, her eyes snapped up, though her hands stilled from pulling the gown off her slim shoulders.

"Why?" she said, voice sharp as she studied him. "Why should you care?"

He tried not to let his panic show. It was clear at her willingness to do this abhorrent task that she would obey Adrian at any cost. That also meant that she wouldn't hesitate to tell him if she thought Kelly was somehow less loyal than he seemed.

"I do want you," he croaked, hating every part of himself for the lie of it. "You're very—" he swallowed. "—desirable. But I don't want a woman who doesn't want me."

Her eyes were hard, cold, as she looked at him. No, not cold, he realised. Resolute.

"I do want this," she said, though her voice quaked. "For my children, I want this."

With that, she tugged the gown off her shoulders, letting it pool at her feet. His gaze fell to the floor as he listened to her bra fall beside it, and the soft swish of her silk knickers sliding down her smooth legs.

"Look at me," she said in a whisper.

He clenched his jaw, willing his mask of muted indifference to hold just a little longer.

"Kelly," she said, and it was the first time he'd ever heard her say his name. "Please, look at me."

He forced himself to do as she asked, though he kept his eyes on her face, unable to bear looking at her naked body. She advanced on him, taking his face in her small hands and kissing him. He froze at the contact, but she was insistent, and remembering all he had to lose, he opened his mouth to admit her tongue as he strung a hand around her to grip the smooth skin at her waist.

She began to cry again even as her fingers made quick work of his cloak, jacket, and shirt. Her hands were shaking as she reached to unbutton his trousers, so he did it for her, almost grateful for the excuse to look away as he peeled them off. When he straightened she drank him in in misery, and he resisted the urge to wipe the tears from her cheeks, knowing the gesture was not likely to be appreciated.

She surged forward to kiss him again, the breasts so unlike those he loved pressing into his bare chest. He tensed as her unwilling hand slid down his abdomen to brush against him through his boxer briefs. He felt the disgust and self-loathing, both his and her own, rising up, and he knew no amount of attention would be enough to get him where he needed to be.

Gently, he pushed her away, retreating to the small bathroom and knowing, with deepening odium, that what he was looking for would somehow be there. Sure enough, the small blue bottle was on the counter, and he took a swig and felt his body reacting to the _Aphrodisium_ at once. Wiping his lips, he padded back to the bedroom to find Astoria had moved to the bed.

He proffered the bottle to her without a word, and she shook her head.

"Just—" she began, tears slipping down the sides of her face as she stared up at the ceiling. "Please."

He knew what she was asking, and he slipped the briefs off to find himself fully ready. He tried not to think about any of it as she opened her thighs to allow him to settle between them, looking away so she could bury her face in the pillow of her silky dark hair.

"I," he croaked, as he made his final preparations. "I'll try to be gentle."

"I don't care about that," she whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut. "Just please, be quick."

* * *

"No," Leolin said, rocking Ava where she held her in her arms. The rest of the small council sat at the table, but she'd gotten up when the baby had begun to fuss, accepting her from a grateful Ginny and ambling around the room with her to calm her down. "It's too big of a gamble, and we have no proof it's even one worth taking."

Max, who sat at the farthest point from where her seat had been, scowled through his horrendous bruises, which still hadn't faded even two weeks later.

"Lucius is obsessed with anchoring himself through his terrestrial bloodline, and they're fucking, for Merlin's sake!" At this everyone curled their lip in horrified disgust.  
"What more proof do you need that Octavia is a threat that needs to be eliminated?"

They'd been at this debate for well over an hour, and Leolin's head had begun to ache. They'd spent the last few weeks securing safe houses for the Ministry officials who'd been on Adrian's bloody list, but she could tell everyone was growing restless at being cooped up at the abbey, and no one more so that Max, who was still too injured to apparate or fight.

"Do _you_ want to storm the palace again, then?" Draco said, sneering at Max. "You'll have to let us know how that goes."

"Beau thinks she —" Max began, but Draco rolled his eyes.

"Oh _Beau_ thinks we should kill her? Yeah, I bet he does."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Max demanded, teeth bared.

Draco gave a bitter laugh.

"You know exactly what it means."

Leolin, who was still pacing back and forth and cooing at Ava, brushed an affectionate hand down Draco's neck, as if counseling restraint.

"Peace, darling," she said in a voice low enough that only he could hear, and while his face remained tight, his shoulders dropped from their defensive position.

"Look," he said with more tact. "I don't mean to minimise what she did to Taylor. I agree it was abhorrent, and I don't blame him for wanting to see her dead. But that doesn't mean we can afford to go waltzing back into the palace!"

"Besides," Xavier said, twirling his wand through deft fingers. "We no longer have a secure way in. More likely than not, we get caught in a snare and end up knee deep in mierda. We will have to wait for her to come out into the open. Then we can kill her."

Max growled his annoyance at being double-teamed by two people who rarely, if ever, agreed on anything.

"Ren," he said, turning to his friend. "Back me up."

Felix's expression remained neutral, but he didn't speak, choosing to meet Leolin's eye across the room instead. Max growled in frustration.

"Jesus," he sneered, slipping back into old Muggle idioms in his agitation. "You run into one pair of nice tits and you suddenly lose the ability to think for yourself? Nice going, Chaisson."

"Watch your mouth," Draco said, baring his teeth.

"Flattered as I am by that descriptor," Leolin cut in. "Felix is more than free to say what he pleases. Ren, if you think this idea has merit, just say so."

Everyone looked at him expectantly, and he sighed.

"I'm sorry, Brank, but Borgia and Malfoy are right. We have no good way to get to Octavia, and we have no real evidence she's involved with this beyond the obvious."

"She's his sister!" Max roared.

"If all he needed was Malfoy blood," Blaise said. "Why have Lucia? Seems like Octavia was more than willing to go along with all this. Why bother making sure Regine got pregnant?"

"I don't know!" Max said. "But even if I did, it clearly wouldn't make a difference, since you sycophants will only do and say what Lefevre tells you to."

Leolin rolled her eyes, wishing her mother was there. Ariadne was so much better at keeping her cool, and at keeping the peace. She paused behind Draco, and he reached up to brush her hand in reassurance.

"If you want to take the issue to the Order-at-large for a vote," she said. "Be my guest. I just don't think you're going to find anyone very sympathetic to this idea."

"Because it's shite," Draco said in a dry voice.

"I think you've made your point," Ginny said. "Try and avoid being obtuse about it."

"I'm not being obtuse," Draco said. "But if Brankovitch is going to cry foul every time he doesn't get his sodding way, it's going to be a long war."

"Go fuck yourself," Max offered with venom.

Draco smirked, lazily reaching behind him to string a proprietary arm around Leolin's waist, her free hand falling to his shoulder.

"I don't have to."

"Drake," Leolin groaned, pulling from his touch and pinching the bridge of her nose with her right hand. "Knock it off."

However, as Max opened his mouth to offer his seething retort, the doors swung open, and Leolin's heart leapt. Please let it be her mum and James. It had been weeks since they'd left for France, and even though they had made it out of the war zone and into the countryside, Leolin still yearned to see them home and safe. Besides, she was in desperate need of Ari's advice about what to do next. Her shoulders sagged when she realised it was Lachlan, fully healed now and grinning.

"General," he said, ignoring her pursed-lipped expression. She'd asked them a million times not to call her that, but the more she insisted, the more it seemed to stick. "There's someone to see you in the training room."

"Who?" she asked, not wanting to be rude by pointing out that she was right in the middle of something.

Lachlan cast a casual glance around the room before saying, "someone I think you'll wanna speak to."

Her heart pounded, and she fought the urge to exchange a glance with Draco. She hadn't seen Kelly in weeks, either, and she'd started to worry. However, despite his appearance at The Order's first meeting, she'd had Xavier and Felix discreetly wiping the memory that he was still working with them from everyone's memories but her inner circle. Part of her felt guilty for it, but she couldn't risk his safety if the information fell into the wrong hands.

"Let's table this for now," Leolin said. "The Order-at-large is meeting in two days. If you and Taylor still feel strongly about this, you can bring it up then," she told Max. "Just know that if you do, he might be expected to answer some questions he won't like."

"Fine," Max said in a sullen voice, seeming more like a petulant teenager than a grown man of previous composure and authority.

"Everyone's dismissed, then," Leolin said as they stood, and she eased a now sleeping Ava into Ginny's waiting arms.

She strode with purpose out into the hall, ignoring Max's final glare as she breezed past him. Though he dwarfed her in size, he angled back to keep from colliding with her, even as he grit his teeth to let her pass. Draco smirked at the gesture of submission as he followed Leolin, and Max offered him a filthy retort even as Draco did slam his shoulder into him, pushing Max back as step as he strode out.

"Hey," Draco breathed, appearing at Leolin's elbow and touching her back. "Do you want me to come with you?"

She turned to brush an affectionate hand down his chest, tipping her head back to meet his eye.

"Thank you," she said. "But I ought to handle this myself. It's more... _peaceful_ that way."

She laughed at his tight-lipped expression, standing on tip-toes to brush her mouth against his.

"Just give me an hour and I'll meet you upstairs," she breathed, nipping at his lush bottom lip. "I still owe you for your... _rousing_ oration this morning."

He gave her a lazy, self-satisfied male smile at the memory, and the promise in it made her knees a little weak. He threaded a hand around her waist, pushing his hips to hers.

"Just let me lay you out and lick you like that again," he purred, brushed his lips—then his teeth—along the shell of his ear. "Those little noises you make will be repayment enough."

"Oh gods," she half-moaned. "Get out of here while I can still bear to let you go."

He laughed, and she could feel the vibrations of it thrumming through her chest.

"See you in a bit, then," he said, kissing her a final time.

She nodded before extracting herself from his embrace and heading down the stairs down to what had once been James's game room, now converted into a gym and sparring ring. Kelly was sitting on the disused pool table, and Leolin watched as he sent the eight ball spinning across the table and into the five. It fell in the corner pocket with a soft ' _plunk_ '.

He looked up as she approached, and though he didn't smile, some of the tension in his shoulders seemed to loosen.

"Kel," she breathed, folding into his arms. "It's so good to see you. It feels like it's been an age."

"You too," he said, squeezing her tighter than usual as he pressed his cheek into her temple, like he was assuring himself she was real.

"Are you alright?" she asked, touching his cheek as they pulled away. "You look dreadful."

Kelly gave a grim smile before rubbing his eyes.

"Thank you," he said, running a hand through his sandy hair, dislodging the pomaded pieces in the front so some curls sprang loose.

"I didn't mean it like that," Leolin said, continuing to study him. "I just mean that you seem on edge. Has something happened?"

He glanced up at her in an almost pleading expression.

"Kelly," she said, reaching to take his hand. "What is it?"

His throat bobbed before he shook his head and looked away.

"Nothing," he said. "Three weeks is just a long time to be under."

"Does Cara know you're back yet? She'll be thrilled."

Kelly seemed to stiffen at her mention.

"No," he said hastily before exhaling a breath. "No, I can't stay that long. I'll—I'd rather wait to see her when I have more time."

"Oh," Leolin said, brows furrowed. "Okay."

Kelly nodded, seeming relieved she hadn't pushed.

"Do you have some news for me, then?" she prompted in a gentle voice.

"Adrian sent me to London to scout out the new defenses at the Embassy."

Leolin would have laughed were it not for Kelly's grave expression.

"He can't be serious," she said. "He'll never get in."

"That's what I told him," Kelly said. "But apparently Lucius has a way."

At his mention, Leolin paled.

"Did Adrian say when he planned to attack?"

"Two weeks at most."

Leolin didn't reply, still weighing her options. If she wanted to warn the Americans, she'd have to go to London herself. But she hadn't been back since the night of the wedding, and the thought of marching into Solarrii territory scared the shit out of her.

"What's his end game?" Leolin asked after what felt like an eternity of silence. "Is this about getting to them, or us?"

"Both," Kelly admitted. "Adrian figures you'll either show up to help and he'll catch you, or you won't, and they'll be able to wipe the Americans out."

"Damnit," Leolin said. "Why does he always have to be so fucking clever? Alright, it's still good to know. Thank you for bringing this to me. This window could very well save lives."

"Here's my full report," he said, drawing a folded stack of parchment from his jacket pocket and handing it to her.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she said, glancing down at the sealed papers in her hand before looking back at him, trying to catch his eye. However, his gaze remained elusive. "You seem really out of sorts."

Kelly sighed, and it bore the weight of ages.

"I'm just—tired."

He didn't look tired. He looked bone weary, like he could sleep for a hundred years and it wouldn't be enough. At seeing Leolin's dubious, concerned expression, he added, "I—didn't sleep well last night."

"Then why don't you stay here? I can have a bed made up for you, and you and Cara can—"

"No," he said, in the same firm tone as before. "I have to get back to London. Adrian's expecting me to report back about the embassy the day after tomorrow. I need time to figure out what I can tell him without selling them out or looking like I failed."

Without saying more, Kelly turned to pick up his white cloak draped over the table. She caught at his elbow as he made to retreat back up the stairs.

"Kelly," she half pleaded. "You don't have to go back, if you don't want. I'm not going to make you."

He considered this offer, and for a second she thought he was going to confess what was clearly plaguing him. However, after a beat he just blew out a breath and threw the cloak over his shoulder, pinning it into place with the bursting star.

"Thank you," he said finally. "But I agreed to do this. I intend to see it through to whatever end."

She bit her lip, she asked, pained for his sake.

"Is there nothing I can do to help?"

"Just tell Cara that I love her," he said, eyes pleading. "And that I'm sorry."

Leolin nodded, and he brushed her shoulder in a final salutation before ascending the stairs and disappearing.

Admittedly forgetting her promise to Draco, Leolin went straight to the benediction room and spread out on the floor, reading Kelly's reports dating back several weeks. Some of the information was old, or they already knew, but she drew out a parchment and began to make notes about the most key pieces.

 _Confirmed: Rufus Scrimgouer and son executed in the Hall of Justice, 18/11. Confirmed: Lucius still seeking to anchor power through patrolineal bloodline. Capture and coercion of Draco planned with attack on Embassy, 20/11._

Leolin bit her lip at this, breathless from how hard her heart had begun to beat. They'd known this for weeks—or at least suspected it—but to see it verified made her blood run cold. She continued on, noting that Kelly's ordinarily neat handwriting had grown cramped, as if he were writing under some kind of pained duress.

 _Confirmed_ : _Teddy Nott tasked with discovering Order's safe house location. Punished when unsuccessful, 20/11. Punishment:_

Leolin flipped the parchment over to find out the punishment, but there was no more script on the back. She frowned. Had Adrian killed Teddy? And if he had, why hadn't Kelly mentioned it? He knew they kept strict tally on Solarrii members, particularly ones as high-ranking at the Notts. She thought of how haunted he'd seemed. Oh gods, what if he'd been there?

"I knew I'd find you in here," a voice drawled from the doorway, and Leolin glanced up and swore.

"Bollocks, I'm sorry," she said to Draco as he settled down next to her on the floor. "I completely forgot."

"I was upstairs naked and prone for an hour waiting for you," he said, but his tone was light, eyes sparkling.

"Sorry," she repeated, leaning over to give him a quick kiss. "I got wrapped up in this and lost track of time."

Draco nodded his understanding.

"How's Troy?"

"Tense," she admitted, rolling onto her back and staring up at the ceiling.

Draco considered.

"Maybe he just needs a good shag," he offered, and she scowled at him.

"This is serious!" she said, still frowning, and his expression softened.

"I'm sorry," he said, laying down beside her and crossing his legs at the ankle. "I just meant that if I was under for three weeks, seeing you and knowing you were alright would be the only thing that could pull me out. If he came straight to you before seeing her, he was just probably still—"

"That's the thing," Leolin said. "He didn't plan to see her. He just dropped off his report and left."

Draco's brows furrowed.

"That's odd."

Leolin rolled on to her side, resting her head on her elbow so she could look at him.

"I'm really worried, Drake. You should have seen him; he looks awful."

"Are you worried he's going to slip up and give himself away?"

"I'm worried that he's going to give so _much_ of himself away that he'll never be the same," she admitted.

Draco studied her, brushing a thumb down her cheek.

"Are you going to pull him out?"

She sighed.

"I should. If I was a good friend, I would. But I—"

He nodded.

"I know. You still need him to stay."

"I feel awful about it, but yes. Until he comes to me and asks to be pulled, I have to keep him in."

"I know it's not easy," Draco said. "But try not to put all of the responsibility on yourself. Troy's a tough bloke, and he believes in what he's doing. Don't sell him short by pulling him before he's accomplished what he set out to do. He wants to offer Adrian to you on a plate, and after everything that's happened, you deserve that. You both do."

Part of Leolin wanted to deny it, but she still woke up more often than not with Adrian's threats echoing in her mind, and when she imagined what it would feel like to watch the flame die in his lambent eyes, her blood trilled.

"That's not even all of it," she said. "Look at this."

She held up the latest report and indicated the section she meant. Draco's eyes darkened as they scanned.

"So he needs my blood," Draco said. "Not something we didn't already know. Besides, it's a good thing. It means that unless I give it to him, he can never fully come into his power. And at least it will get Taylor and Brankovitch to stop whinging about my Aunt Octavia for a bit."

Leolin could see the pain etched below the flippancy, and the fear beneath that, and she bent over to brush her lips against his.

"I will never let them take you from me," she breathed into his parted mouth, kissing him again. "Never."

He threaded a hand through her hair and surged forward to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding against hers. After several seconds he pulled back, resting his forehead on hers.

"I know that," he said in a solemn voice. "And I love you for it."

They were silent a moment as Leolin rested her head on his chest and he toyed with a lock of her dark hair.

"Anything else?"

"Adrian's got Kelly scouting the Embassy. They plan to attack before the end of the month."

Draco huffed out what Leolin understood to be a humourless laugh.

"Good luck with that."

"I said that too, at first, but if Lucius really and absorb people's magic, all it would take is the abduction of the right guard, and he'd been able to get through the wards and in."

"Shit," Draco said in a soft voice. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I'm going to London tomorrow to warn Teller and General Sainte-Croix in person."

"Oh c'mon, Cal, you can't be serious," Draco said, craning his neck to glare at the top of her head.

"Do you have a better idea? It's too important of a message to risk sending any other way. If Adrian were to intercept it, Kelly's cover would blow. I'm not going to put him in any more danger."

"Adrian could very well intercept you," he pointed out in a flat voice. "If you're not careful."

Leolin sat up, giving Draco a stony look that said she was all too ready to have this fight again.

"I can handle him."

Draco sat up as well, considering her challenge with eyes flashing. After a minute of intense scrutiny he sighed his resignation, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm not asking you not to go," he said, and she pursed her lips to indicate she knew it was _exactly_ what he'd been asking. He ignored her and continued. "Just please, let me come with you."

Her expression remained stony.

"To protect me?" she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "As my bloody keeper?"

"To have your back as your lieutenant," he corrected, brushing his nose to hers and grinning as he raised his eyebrows in sinful amusement. "and dashing consort."

She laughed a little at the idea and nodded, and he bent to brush a chaste kiss to her ear.

"Just remember Felix is still my second," she said. "If he gives you an order, I expect you to follow it."

He nipped at her lobe with his teeth.

"I know," he breathed.

"Good," she said, pushing him off, though she was smiling now. "Tell everyone to meet in the chancery in an hour. And I want Gia and Taylor there, too."

He raised his eyebrows at this but said nothing, pecking her instead.

"Whatever you say, my queen," he said, and she rolled her eyes as he rose to his feet and left.

She wiled the hour away going through Kelly's report again, trying to ignore the empty line where Teddy's punishment ought to have been noted. She didn't want to, but she told herself she'd have to ask Kelly about it the next time she saw him. When she glanced at the clock and noted the time, she got up and made her way to the chancery to find everyone was already there.

"This is all very cloak and dagger," Beau Taylor pointed out, feet propped up and grinning like a cheshire cat.

Leolin slapped him across the back of the head, snapping, "get your feet off my table and shut your mouth."

"What's going on, tesoro?" Xavier asked as Leolin took her seat, Draco at her left and Felix at her right. Without a word, Draco extended a hand to her, and she accepted it with a grateful squeeze.

"Adrian's planning an attack on the Americans, and we have good reason to believe he'll be successful, so we're going to London tomorrow to meet with General Sainte-Croix and Croften Teller to warn them."

"Who's 'we'?" Ginny asked

"Me, Felix, Drake, Taylor, and Gia."

"Why me?"

"Why her?" Beau and Blaise snapped in unison before turning to glare at each other.

"Taylor, I need at least one Yank there, and Brankovitch is still too weak to go. No, don't argue," she said, holding up a hand to Max even as he opened his mouth to protest. "You can barely walk twenty five yards without getting winded. You're staying, Taylor's going, that's an order."

"What about Gia?" Blaise demanded, the aforementioned rolling her eyes in the way only younger sibling could.

"Gia's a Shacklebolt, and they have always been friends with the Sainte-Croix family. The general will be more likely to trust us and listen to us if Leonard's daughter is with us, even if he doesn't quite know it."

"Dieter Sainte-Croix and my father were friends," Gia said, ignoring another glower from Blaise. "Besides, no man has ever had the _coglione_ to say no to me."

At this she flashed her brother a grin, and he growled his annoyance.

"She's not wrong," Felix mused, and everyone looked at him with varying degrees of displeasure, minus Gia, who only smirked.

"Ren!" Leolin snapped, but he rolled his eyes.

"I didn't mean it like that," he said, and Gia huffed. "I just mean that good-looking people often get their way. Don't even pretend _you_ haven't found this to be the case."

"Good point, Chaisson," Blaise said, eyes blazing as they fixed on Leolin. "If you want this done, you can go and get ogled by Sainte-Croix yourself."

"Ew Blaise, he's like fifty!" Gia said.

"Exactly!" Blaise said, and Ginny touched his arm to council restraint.

"He's was like an uncle to me," Gia clarified. "Merlin's fucking beard, is this how you're going to be with Ava? Godric help her."

"No one is ogling anyone," Leolin said, and catching Beau's smirk in Gia's direction, she snapped, "And wipe that stupid look off your face, Taylor. Gia, it's up to you. If you're willing, I'd like you to come with us to London tomorrow."

Gia sniffed.

"I am."

"Good, then it's settled," Leolin said.

"At least let me come with you, then," Blaise said, and both Leolin and Gia rolled their eyes.

"No," they said in unison.

"Why not?"

"Because as much as we love you, darling," Ginny said in a gentle voice, patting Blaise's arm. "You can come off a little...frosty to strangers."

"What your wife is trying to say, General," Beau drawled. "Is that you're an arrogant prick, and that you make people sour."

Blaise was already halfway out of his chair to strangle Beau, but Leolin reacted first, sending a phantom hand towards Beau that slapped him across the face with a satisfying _thwack_.

He glared at her, but she only shrugged in response.

"Tell me you didn't honestly deserve that and I'll consider apologising."

He grit his teeth but said nothing, and she flashed him a cool smile.

"That's what I thought. I've already sent a message ahead to London; we're meeting tomorrow at midday at Sirius Black's old family house at Grimmauld Place."

"Midday?" Beau repeated, rubbing his cheek and jaw.

"The patrol is heaviest at night," Xavier said. "They will not expect you to travel in broad daylight."

"I can't imagine why," Blaise said, still watching Gia with a protective sullenness.

"Enough," Leolin told him. "Everyone just be ready at quarter til noon in the courtyard."

She stood, and everyone copied her. "Goodnight. See you all then."

She nodded her dismissal and they all filed out, Blaise and Gia bickering again as Beau gave her a final dirty look. When they were all gone, Leolin slumped back in her chair, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"C'mon," Draco said at her elbow. "Upstairs."

"I should look over—" she began, but he tugged her up as easily as if she were a ragdoll.

"Not tonight. You need to be sharp for tomorrow. Besides, if you were strung any tighter, you'd snap. We need to get you relaxed."

Leolin considered protesting, but Draco ushered her upstairs with the efficiency of a nursemaid, guiding her to sit on the bed before disappearing into their bathroom. Leolin heard the water running, and Draco returned several minutes later, urging her off the bed into the bathroom, where a bath stood steaming, it's water scented with vanilla and pine. She exhaled as it wafted over her, and she raised her arms as Draco slid up behind her, tugging her shirt off and kissing her neck.

"Get in," he breathed, unclasping her bra as well and depositing it on the floor.

She tugged off her leggings herself, sighing as Draco slipped his thumbs through the waistband of her knickers and urged them down as well.

He offered her a genteel hand as she lowered into the tub, and she bit back an actual moan. He knelt beside it, smiling as she wet her hair and soaked her tight shoulders.

"Better?" he asked, leaning his forearms on the porcelain side so he could watch her.

"Much," she admitted, kneading the muscles in her neck before seeming to realise something. 'Are you not going to join me?"

"I'm trying to get you relaxed, not rile you up," he said with smugness.

She splashed some water in his face.

"Get over yourself and get in here."

He was still smirking as he wiped his face, but he must have seen something change in her expression, because after a moment of studying her he stood, shredding his clothes quickly and stepping in the tub to sink down behind her. When he was seated, she pressed up against him, resting her head in the crook of his neck as his arms came around her.

"Parle moi," he said in her ear. "A quoi es-ce que tu penses, mon coeur?"

She purred her contentment at the French, but she didn't answer him right away. _What's on your mind_ , he'd asked her. In truth, it was so crammed with thoughts and fears that she didn't know where to begin.

"Talk to me," he said, dropping a kiss on her shoulder.

"Maybe I should be going alone tomorrow," she said, and he snorted against her skin.

"Don't be such a Gryff."

She gently elbowed him for the jab, and his arms tightened around her.

"Is this about what Blaise said? Gia's not a kid anymore, Lai, and Sainte-Croix's a prickly bastard. We need her help. Don't feel guilty for using your resources; it's what a good leader does."

"But if something were to happen to her—"

"Nothing's going to happen. Besides, she's been in tougher spots that this, and you got her out without a scratch. And she's not some helpless young thing, whatever Blaise might think. She was in Florence when the city fell, and she had the wits to get to safety. She can handle it."

Leolin nodded and settled back against him more fully, idly playing with his fingers.

"I know we have this habit of assuming Adrian is everywhere and knows everything," he said after a minute or two of silence. "But he isn't, and he doesn't. He's not a god, Lai."

Leoli nodded again, fighting the urge to point out that while Adrian not be, his father nearly was. He seemed to sense what she was thinking, though, and he pulled her even closer, as if wishing he could fold her into him entirely.

"There is no point in fretting over it," Draco said. "Just focus on what's in front of you and let the rest go."

"And Kelly?" she said, ignoring the way he tensed.

"If he didn't want to see Cara today for whatever reason, that is his business. It's not your place to pry into his personal life."

She bristled.

"I'm not prying. I'm just worried about him."

She could sense the tart reply he was biting back, but in the end he managed to get it under control, because he said, "He has a tough job. All you can do is support him and let him do it. You can't bear the weight of the world alone, my love," he added after a beat. "Don't ask me to watch you try."

"I know," she said, nestling against him again as he wrapped his arms around her middle, just below her breasts. "Thank you."

"J'taime," he breathed in her ear. "Toujours, my coeur."

"I love you, too," she said. "And thank Godric for you."

He only hummed in response, idly brushing a hand across her nipple until it peaked, even in the warm water. His strokes remained lazy, comforting, as they lay there in silence, but after a minute or two she felt her legs begin to tingle at the contact, and she ground against him.

"Relaxation," he said, though he hissed a little at her machination. "Remember?"

"This is how I relax," she said, rotating in his arms until she was in his lap and facing him.

"Merlin, woman, the things you do to me," he said, grabbing her hips and pushing her against his cock, which had begun to harden at once. "It's enough to drive me crazy."

She kissed him, tongue tangling with his as she tugged at his wet hair.

As if knowing what they were about to do next, the tub began to drain, and Draco rose in a fluid motion with Leolin still half pressed against him. He gave her arse a sound slap and she disentangled and stepped out, tugging her against him again and groaning as his velvet steel length pressed into her stomach.

"On the bed," he ordered.

She smirked over her shoulder at him as they approached it, and he grabbed her hips, tugging her nearly off her feet and around as she fell back onto the mattress, breasts bouncing.

Rodames, who'd be lying on the bed, gave a discontented huff at being disturbed, but Draco just laughed.

"Juste, Rodames" Draco commanded, eying Leolin with hungry eyes that gleamed even in the semi-darkness. "Il en va."

Rodames huffed again before leaping off and curling into his bed in the corner.

"I love when you're bossy," Leolin told him as he squeezed a breast, giving her a preening masculine smirk.

"I know you do," he purred.

At her answering hum of satisfaction, he tugged her hips to the edge of the bed before getting on his knees and feasting on her.

" _Shit_ ," she hissed as his teeth grazed her clit before he swiped at it with his tongue. "Drake, don't stop."

"Godric, you taste so good," he groaned through sweeps of his tongue, sliding two fingers inside of her and curling them until they brushed a spot that made her cry out. She fisted a hand into his hair as her body when taut, shuddering as he rode her cresting orgasm with ease.

She was a quivering mess when his mouth found hers again, and no sooner had he retracted his fingers then he was inside of her, buried bollocks deep.

He grit his teeth as she deliberately clenched around him, and he grabbed her hips and set an ambitious pace. He caught his own name off her tongue as she moaned it into his parted mouth, the sound of their joining filling the room as he rode her, quads flexing to get deeper on every stroke.

"I love you," he panted as she cried his name on her second release, the words fading to a groan as she ran her long nails down his stones in a way she knew he couldn't resist.

"Do that again," he demanded, and she did, his velvety orchids tightening to his body as he came undone inside her.

When it was over she crawled into bed, pulling him around her.

"I love you," she breathed as she settled on the pillow, already half sleep.

"A toi aussi," he said, kissing her ear. "See you in the morning."

* * *

Draco woke to clear early morning light streaming through the slitted window of their room. Leolin was still asleep and tangled in his arms, and he breathed in the mahogany and vanilla of her scent. It was the same perfume she'd worn when they were at Hogwarts, and whenever he smelled it, even now, he was transported back to seventeen years old, when he'd first fallen in love with her and learned what it meant to cherish someone, and to be cherished in return.

He pushed back her dark hair to kiss her neck, and she gave a sleepy purr.

"Good Morning," he breathed against her skin, and though he couldn't see her smile, he could feel it.

"End days must be upon us if you're awake before me," she said, pressing further in to his warmth.

"I like to imagine more that I just did such a good job relaxing you last night that you're still exhausted."

She laughed.

"If you must."

He grinned, flipping her so she was on her back and smiling up at him.

"I must," he affirmed, kissing her with heartbreaking gentleness.

She gave another contented hum as he continued to study her.

"What?" she said, eyes still closed. "Don't be creepy."

"I'm not," he said, tracing her mouth with a finger. "I was just imagining this wicked little mouth wrapped around my—"

There was a noise from a courtyard, footsteps and laughing, and Leolin sat bolt upright, hair a delightful mess. She grinned like a kid on Christmas morning as she shot to the window, still stark naked.

"It's my mum!" she cried happily. "Finally!"

He laughed and rose to join her, even as he tugged her back slightly.

"Then maybe we should get you dressed before you hurry down there," he said.

She was already darting to the bureau and throwing on knickers and a t-shirt, hastily stuffing her feet into boots and her arms into her down winter coat.

"Meet you down there!" she said, brushing a kiss on his lips before bounding out of the room, an excited Rodames on her heels. She must have taken the stairs six at a time, because he was still in his briefs when he heard her delighted shriek.

He crossed to watch her launch into her mother's arms, babbling in a garble of French, Welsh, and English as Ariadne beamed, James at her side. At seeing them, Draco hurried into his clothes as well, trotting down the stairs.

It was James who spotted him first, beaming as he approached.

"Draco," he said, folding the latter into a warm embrace. "Good to see you, lad."

"Likewise," Draco said. "Leolin's been in a state, as usual, waiting for you to get here."

"Being the boss is hard," Leolin whined to Ariadne. "I deserve a medal for not punching one of the Americans in the face yet."

Ariadne pursed her lips, if only to hide a smile.

"We're so proud," she said in a glib voice. "Aren't we, James?"

"Actually, I am," James said. "Right foul bastards, the lot of them."

"Yes, thank you for that," Ariadne told him, flicking Leolin on the nose.

James only shrugged, giving Leolin a conspiratorial wink.

"Come inside," Ariadne said. "We have a lot to tell you, Général." She smoothed Leolin's hair back in a motherly gesture, as if reminding herself Leolin was safe. "And your father says hello, of course, and that they miss you terribly."

Leolin's face dropped a little at this, but Ariadne ran another hand down Leolin's glossy hair.

"Peidiwch â phoeni, cariad," Ariadne soothed in Welsh. "Byddwch yn gweld ef eto cyn bo hir."

"I know," Leolin said in response to what Draco guessed might have been Ariadne's reassurance they'd see each other again soon. "And unfortunately, catching up will have to wait until tonight. I have to go to London in a few hours, and I have a lot to do before then."

At this, both James and Ari stiffened, and Leolin sighed.

"I know, but it can't be helped. I'll explain everything when I get back, but right now I—"

"Let Chaisson and I handle the preparations," Draco cut in. "You three catch up."

Leolin still looked tense, but Draco gave her a reassuring smile.

"Delegation is an important part of being a leader, or some equally as annoying rubbish," he said. "Go, we have this."

He watched Leolin's shoulders sag in relief, and he smiled again.

"I'll have the troops assembled by quarter til," he promised her.

"Viennet," Ariadne said, stringing an arm around Leolin's shoulder. "Wait until I show you a picture of Matthieu. He is so chubby."

Leolin hummed her satisfaction as she pressed her head against her mother's and James clapped Draco on the back in salutation before they disppeared back into the abbey.

When they were gone, Draco made his way to Felix's door, wrapping on the wood.

"Rise and shine, Chaisson. Ari and James are back and I gave Leolin the morning off. You and I are in charge of logistics for the mission."

There was a crash that sounded like someone falling out of bed, followed by a series of swears. Draco grit his teeth in annoyance as he listened to Felix shuffling around, preparing to break down the door just as the aforementioned cracked it open just enough to stick his head out.

"You do realise it's seven in the morning, right?" Felix said, looking irritable.

Draco didn't respond, just took in Felix's tousled hair, bare chest, and the fading love bites on his neck with mounting disgust.

"Is there someone in there with you?" he demanded, trying to shoulder the door open.

"None of your fucking business," Felix snapped.

Draco bared his pearly teeth.

"If it's Gia, I swear to Merlin, Chaisson—"

"It's not," a mumbled female voice replied. "Go away, Malfoy."

Draco tried to peer around Felix to see who was tangled in the mass of sheets, but Felix gave him a hearty shove back.

"Five minutes," he said.

True to his word, Felix emerged a short while later fully dressed. They were joined by Xavier in the chancery, and the three of them quickly reviewed their plan and any possible complications before breaking around eleven.

"Make sure everyone's up and ready," Draco told Felix. "We're leaving within the hour."

"I should be telling you that," Felix said, tone cold but smug. "Seeing as I still outrank you."

Draco snarled, grabbing Felix by the collar.

"Don't start with me today, you little prick. I mean it."

Felix rolled his eyes, shoving Draco off.

"What Leolin sees in you, I will never understand."

"Listen at our door one night and you might find out," Draco said in lewd challenge, and Felix's lip curled.

"I'm going to find Taylor," he said, turning on his heel. "Just get your spoiled little Italian princess and let's get going."

Draco only sneered before arcing in the opposite direction, heading for Gia's room.

"J, it's Drake. Tell me you're up and dressed."

There was a soft rustling behind the door before it swung open, and Draco swore.

"Well I'm up," Gia said, lounging against the frame in silken lingerie, the slinky robe thrown over it doing nothing to hide her near nakedness.

"Giacomina," Draco growled in warning, holding a hand up to shield his eyes as he looked at the floor. "Put some sodding clothes on."

"You can look, you know," she said, swishing one long, smooth leg over another and making him growl again. "I'm not a kid anymore."

At this he did look up, though his gaze remained fixed on her face.

"You'll always be a kid to me, Jac," he said seriously. "And I'm engaged."

Gia rolled her eyes.

"I liked it better when you two were fighting," she snapped, though she wrapped one edge of the robe across the other to cover herself.

"I love her," Draco said, voice stern. "And if you care about me you'll love her too and—stop this."

"Stop what?" she asked, batting her eyelashes a little as if she were confused.

He ran a hand through his hair before rubbing his neck and looking down again.

"The looks, the comments," he paused. " _This."_

Gia had the decency to flush, and his expression softened.

"Darling," he said with sincerity. "I do adore you. I always have and I always will. But Leolin—she's the light of my life."

"Fine," she snapped, clearly fighting down her embarrassment at being rebuffed. Draco knew it was an experience she'd rarely encountered. "I get it. You love her, she's perfect, blah, blah. You don't have to make a big deal about it."

"Don't be childish," he warned. "Or we will leave you here with Blaise."

"I'm not a little kid anymore, Drake!" she repeated, stomping her foot.

"Then stop acting like one and grow up," he snapped, perhaps more harshly then he meant to.

He left out a frustrated huff, running a hand through his hair.

"Just—" he began. "Please get dressed and come downstairs. Leolin will kill me if you're late and we miss our key."

"Why?" she said, sounding ever bit of the petulant twenty-something she was. "Because your her slave? Is that what loving someone means?"

"Sometimes," he said, no humour in his voice. "Besides, she's not just my fiancée; she's my commander, and yours as well. Get in line, or you'll be stuck on kitchen duty."

Her nostrils flared, but she offered no retort, only turned on her heel and slammed the door in his face.

* * *

Gia was still sulking as she descended the stairs, and she met Draco's solid look with a sour one of her own.

"You win," she said, holding out her arms to show the modest dress she'd put on.

He smiled, and it was full of familial protectiveness.

"Always do, kid."

She huffed, fighting not to fold her arms over her chest as Leolin approached and Draco's entire posture changed, every plane of him seeming to refract the warm look in her eyes.

"I need to speak to you and Felix in private for a moment," she said, and he nodded, placing a hand on the small of her back and jerking his head at Felix, who rolled his eyes and followed. Gia watched the three of them disappear into one of the side rooms off the cloister with annoyance. What they all seemed to worship about her, Gia would never truly understand.

"May I offer you some advice?" a voice asked from over her shoulder.

Gia didn't turn, though her expression tightened from annoyed to downright scornful.

"I'd prefer you didn't," she said to Beau, who only gave an indolent laugh.

At this she turned to glare at him, annoyed with the casual way he always carried himself, as if everything was a game to him.

"Go away," she said in a tart voice.

"I can't," he said. "I have orders to go with you, remember? And as for my advice, I'm feeling generous, so I will politely ignore your refusal and give it to you anyway." She scowled, but he continued, "Malfoy is a lost cause; a pretty girl like you should find someone more worthy of her charms."

"I hope you aren't suggesting yourself," she said in a snarl. "Because my brother will knock you into next week, if I don't do it first."

"Me?" he asked, still with a glib smile on his face. "Of course not. I was going to suggest your mousy little friend Brindisi."

"Oh of course," she echoed, frustration flaring. "Wouldn't want to tarnish that lily white bloodline with a negress."

He continued to smile, though something more serious flashed in his eyes.

"Not at all, Giacomina. I only meant I hardly know you, and I'm too old for you besides." He gave her a brief survey, though the look was more observational that predatory. "You're practically still a little girl."

"No I'm not," she hissed. "And don't call me that."

"Why not? It is your name, isn't it?"

"It's the name my mother gave me," Gia said archly. "And I hate my mother, so no, it's not my name."

He raised his eyebrows, untucking his hands from his pockets and holding them out in a gesture of surrender.

"As you wish, then."

"I do wish," she said, head beginning to ache. "Leave me alone."

"Very well," he said. "Just one last thing."

She rolled her eyes and started to stalk down the stairs away from him, but he beat her to the bottom in several long strides, swinging around so they were face to face again.

"What?" she said, mood continuing to sour.

"I wanted to thank you," he said. "For what you did at the palace."

"Don't thank me. You know I would have happily left you there to rot if Lefevre would have let me."

"I do know that," he admitted, dark eyes glittering. "But you still did it, and I want you to know I'm in your debt. If ever there is a chance for me to repay the favor, you have my word as a gentleman that I'll do it."

Gia considered this, and him, with scrutiny. She'd thought she'd known what to expect from him, and though she was hardly pleased with what she'd gotten—all the smug looks and glib comments were enough to drive anyone mad—it still wasn't the vitriolic bigotry she'd imagined. Perhaps he'd changed. Maybe being in prison, enduring all the ills of Lucius Malfoy and his court, had changed him. She glanced at him a final time, feeling vaguely unnerved. She'd overheard Drake and Lefevre murmuring about what Beau had suffered at Octavia's hands, and it'd made her sick to her stomach.

"There is nothing gentlemanly about you," she said at last, feeling almost relieved at seeing Leolin emerge from her conference with the other two, even if she and Draco were still holding hands and standing too close. "And if you want to pay me back, leave me the Hell alone."

Beau shrugged and relented as Leolin approached, eyes keen.

"Are you two ready?"

Gia nodded, and Beau flashed a grin Gia could tell Leolin was contemplating slapping off his face.

"Right," Leolin said, turning up the tall collar of her handsome wool coat and trading a last look with Draco. "To London, then. I suspect Crofton Teller's already there waiting for us."

"Aren't you a bit overdressed for what is more than likely going into be a screaming match?" Beau asked, eying Leolin with lazy insolence, gaze sliding from her dangerous stilettos to the slim column of her neck.

She responded by driving one of the aforementioned stillettos into his toe-box, making him hiss in pain. However, Draco responded with what was almost an amorous groan.

"Godric, I love you," he said in a purr, and Leolin flashed him a heated smile that made Gia want to gag.

However, after a moment Leolin's expression softened to one of grim determination, and she nodded as they all gathered around the worn boot key.

"We're about to enter Solarrii territory," Leolin said. "Everyone be on their guard."

With that, Gia felt the sickening tug at her navel, and they spun away, landing in what looked to be a dreary Muggle suburb overlooking the skyline.

"This isn't Diagon," Beau observed as they all wrapped their coats tighter, fending off a blustery wind chilled by coming snow. The sky overhead was gloomy, even at midday, and a storm didn't seem too far off.

"Very astute," Leolin said in a flat voice. "Ren?"

Felix stepped up and drew the same small stone he'd used at the palace, hurling it towards the city below. As before, the stone collided with something solid but invisible, quivering mid-air.

"That never gets old," Felix said in satisfaction, twirling a knife from his belt so that it glinted, even in the gloom.

"Stop showing off and let's get on with it," Draco demanded.

However, Gia found she was rather enjoying it. She hadn't been lying when she'd told Blaise she thought Felix was handsome, nor had she been insincere in her invitation he to get to know her...better.

His dogged obedience to Leolin aside, there was something wild and slightly damaged in him that appealed to Gia, and from the little she'd glimpsed of him in training with Xavier Borgia, it was clear he was a man who understood all the incredible things the human body was capable of.

Gia cocked her head as she continued to study him with appreciation as his deft fingers slipped into the newly split seam of the ward and began to peel it back. She only paused when she felt the tingle of someone's gaze on her, and she turned, expecting to find Draco's disapproving glare. Instead, she found Beau smirking at her, as if he'd just read her mind and found the contents amusing.

At meeting her eye he smiled outright, mouthing, " _too old and not worthy_."

"Fuck off," she said aloud, and both Leolin and Draco looked at her before Leolin's eyes moved to Beau, narrowing.

"Knock it off, Taylor," she said, but he only shrugged.

"I didn't say a word."

"Let's go," Felix cut in, holding the shimmering flap of the ward open for them. Gia could see the deserted streets of Wizarding London on the other side, and it sent a chill down her spine.

Draco grabbed her by the elbow and guided her through, and she huffed her annoyance.

"Let go," she snapped, flushing as she brushed his hand away. If he wasn't going to touch her the way he touched Lefevre, she preferred he didn't touch her at all. "I already have one demented older brother. I don't want or need another."

"Do you not?"

"Enough, Drake," Leolin snapped from behind them, looking annoyed for Gia's sake. "You, too, Taylor. We slip up, and you're back in that cell within the hour."

Gia turned to him to gloat at being dressed down, only to find he'd gone bone white. Felix noticed too, and he gripped Beau's shoulder.

"Are you alright?"

Through all the smugness and swagger, Gia could see the broken man beneath peering through, and it made her blood go cold. She remembered again what Octavia had forced him to do to her, and she had to fend off a physical shudder.

"Fine," he managed after a strangled beat, not meeting anyone's gaze. "I'm fine. Let's go."

Leolin and Draco exchanged a look before she nodded, turning up the collar of her coat before looking around and slinking down a cramped alley to their left. Her heels made no noise as she slipped, silent as a cat, across the cobblestones now dusted with snow. Gia resisted the urge to look over her shoulder as they followed her, half convinced already that she'd seen the whip of a white cloak as they'd first ducked into the alley.

About halfway down Leolin stopped short, chilled breath clouding around her as she took several short, tight breaths. Pushing closer, Gia could see what she was looking at. It was a photo of herself dressed in a silk ballgown, a resplendent diamond necklace glinting across her breasts every time she exhaled. It was clearly a somewhat recent photo—Leolin looked roughly the same age as she did now—but she also seemed different, more fragile and yet somehow less—shattered, as if the woman in the photo was at once more sad and less broken than the Leolin who now stood in the alleyway.

Above the picture was stamped the word, "REWARD", and below it glittered a signature in gilt ink, the only legible letters the capitalised "A" and "P". Next to the signature was a glittering seal that read, "Lord Protector".

Leolin reached forward to shred the photo from the wall, but Draco caught her wrist.

"Don't," he said darkly. "Trust me."

"We have to go, anyways," Felix said, eyes flicking between Leolin and Beau, both of whom now looked like they'd seen a ghost. "It's nearly noon."

Leolin nodded to clear her daze before pressing on, peering out of the alley's narrow mouth with practiced caution before slipping onto a street of cramped rowhouses. She swished her wand at the nonexistent space between numbers eleven and thirteen, and the bricks groaned as number twelve appeared. Leolin glanced around a final time before ascending the stairs and motioning they follow.

She swished her wand again and the door creaked open, and they all shuffled in, Felix shutting it behind them as they all illuminated their wands and held them aloft. Gia had to bite back a scream as the reedy light fell on two heavily armed women already standing in the hall.

The first was a well-curved black woman with keen russet eyes and a bandolier of wicked knives circling her generous hips. Beside her stood a sandy-haired woman of near Amazonian height, turquoise eyes flashing as she surveyed them. She bore a nasty-looking hatchet at one side, and her ash wand at the other.

However, Gia paid her little heed. It was the other woman she found most interesting, mostly because she realised after a beat she knew her. She could still see Celeste as she'd been at sixteen, eyes full of wicked mischief and a broad smile on her face. Though the years had been kind to her—she still looked no older than twenty one or two, even though Gia calculated that she must now be over thirty—they had granted her solemnity, and she now looked as if she hadn't smiled in ages.

"Celeste?" Leolin said, stepping forward and extending a hand. "Leolin Lefevre."

Celeste accepted the gesture.

"Anchanté," Celeste replied in Creole. "And I apologise in advance."

"For what?" Draco demanded.

Celeste jerked her head at the taller woman.

"Blind them and take their weapons."

"What the fuck, Sainte-Croix?" Leolin demanded as two agents appeared out of the shadow and clamped a hand on either arm, and a third set about unbuckled the belt that held her katana and her wand. "We came here in good faith!"

"I'm sorry," Celeste repeated, grabbing the belt as the agent tossed it to her. "But my father doesn't like meeting in the open, and we can't risk compromising the Embassy's security."

Leolin growled her frustration as a young solider ran his hands down her breasts to check for weapons before moving to her thigh in search of a hidden sheath.

"One milimetre higher," she hissed. "And I will rip off your sodding stones."

He withdrew his hands at once, and Celeste jerked her head.

"That's enough," she said. "Bag them and let's go."

Gia tried to protest as a dark sack was lowered over her head, but she could do little more than struggle and curse as she was disapparated. When the hood was removed, she blinked to find herself in what had once been a grand ballroom, but what was now the centre of a major army intelligence base. There were witches and wizards milling about in austere black uniforms, armed to the teeth with wands and weapons of every variety. The entire place thrummed with fitful energy, and it set Gia's teeth on edge, especially as she glanced around and watched the others take in the ballroom, as if they were collectively remembering something unpleasant.

Celeste and her sullen companion had disappeared sometime during their journey, but an unamused blonde man stood in the centre of the room, obviously waiting for them.

"You're late, Thénard," he said in cool greeting, eyes skimming Leolin up and down in a way that, while disdainful, made Draco bristle.

"What the fuck was that, Crofton?" Leolin ground out through teeth gritted into an acrid smile. "We said no games."

Crofton shrugged.

"A necessary precaution. Who are your friends?"

His eyes flicked over all of them before coming back to settle on Leolin again. For a man who clearly loathed her, he didn't seem to get tired of looking at her, though even Gia supposed she couldn't blame him; Leolin was lovely.

"My second, Felix Chaisson. Felix, Crofton Teller, IAO."

Felix gave a terse nod, and Teller pursed his lips.

"And I believe you know Beau Taylor," Leolin continued. "And my fiancée Draco Malfoy, of course," she added after a pause, giving a nasty smile, one which Teller matched.

"Camden," Draco purred, giving Teller a piteous up-down. "Good to see you."

Teller turned to Leolin, eyes glittering with enmity.

"And here I was thinking you were still married to Max Brankovitch."

Leolin only gave a mild shrug.

"It didn't work out."

Finally Teller turned his attention to Gia, and though his eyes studied her face, he seemed to sense she was young enough that he dare not let them slip any lower.

"And you are?" he said.

"Giacomina Shacklebolt. I'm—"

"Leonard's daughter," a hard voice finished for her. They all looked up to see barrel-chested, battle-hardened General Dieter Sainte-Croix descending the stairs. "What you doing here, girl?"

His accent was heavier than Celeste's, and though he was originally from Haiti and her father from Barbados, it was similar enough to her dad's to make her miss him all the way down to her bones. Gia, despite all her bold proclamations to Blaise, shrank back a little at his tone, making Leolin bristle.

"She's with me," she said with an authority that belied her twenty six years. "General, I'm Leolin Lefevre."

He surveyed Leolin with a critical eye, though his gaze was much less disdainful than Teller's had been, and—truth be told—less raking. So much for Blaise's fear that Sainte-Croix only wanted to ogle young women.

"I know who you are," he said, mouth tight. "And you," he said, gaze flitting to Draco, who tensed. "You must have pretty big couilles, boy, to show your face here after all your father has done."

"Leolin's going to be my wife," Draco replied in an even tone. "Where she goes, I follow."

Teller looked bitterly amused, and Draco's diamond-flecked eyes slid to him. He gave a cold, handsome smile that sent a shiver down Gia's spine. He stepped forward, and Leolin acquiesced her position by rolling a shoulder back and allowing him to advance.

"Would that you could be so lucky, huh, Tanner?" Draco snarled softly. "Yeah, we've all seen the way you look at her."

Teller had the good sense to look uneasy, though he didn't relent by shrinking back, as a more prudent man probably would have.

"That's enough," the general said, eyes on Leolin again. "You came here to talk, so let's talk."

Draco gave Teller another unkind smile before retreating back to his position at Leolin's shoulder, and Sainte-Croix grit his teeth but made no further comment on the matter.

He jerked his head towards the staircase before turning on his heel to ascend it, and Gia heard Leolin murmur, "Not necessary, Drake."

"Amusing, though," Felix said, and Leolin gave them both a stern look as they followed the General into a small war room where several others, including his daughter and the dour woman from before, were already waiting.

"My counselors Fazl Jameel and Sotiria Pachis," the general said, indicating a Pakistani man in his late thirties and a stern-looking woman with grey-streaked curly black hair. "My daughter Celeste you already know, of course, and this is Freya Balakov."

"Forgive my impertinence," Beau drawled, eying Freya as they all sat down. "But you don't look American."

"I'm not," she said in an accent that undulated, even through her flat tone.

"Freya is a graduate of Nordiska Högskolan för Besvärjelse," the general said, as if annoyed he'd been forced to explain."She's one of my top lieutenants."

Gia had heard of the school before, a fortress tucked up in the Swedish laplands where students were trained as much in combat as their were in magic. Their graduates peppered the top of nearly every government agency across the Wizarding world, and looking at Freya, it wasn't difficult to guess why.

"A real life viking, then," Beau observed, still eying Freya as well. "How exciting."

Freya bared her straight teeth, though her expression remained calm otherwise.

"Perhaps you'd like a personal demonstration of my raping and pillaging, _hore_."

Beau stiffened at the insinuation, going slightly pale again.

"Do not," Leolin cut in, voice hard. "Threaten a subordinate of mine like that again."

Freya met her gaze without fear, cool blue eyes alight with the challenge.

"Or what?"

"Or we're leaving, and you lot can forget my help."

The general exchanged a look with Fazl before nodding at Freya, who relented by stepping aside and putting her arms behind her back in a soldier's resting stance.

"And you," Leolin hissed at Beau when Sainte-Croix leaned over to hear something Celeste was saying in his ear. "Don't speak again until you're told."

"Enough of this nonsense," the general demanded as he straightened back into his seat. "Say what you need to say, Ms. Lefevre, and let us be done with it."

"Adrian Pucey and the Emperor have found a way into the Embassy, and plan to attack sometime in the next two weeks. I'm here to recommend you start getting your people out at once."

"And you know this how?" The general asked.

Leolin cut a quick glance at Draco, and then Felix, before saying, "I'm not at liberty to say."

"Do you have someone inside the palace?" Teller demanded, eyes narrowing. Whatever his history with Leolin, he didn't seem eager to trust her. She bend a withering look on him.

"I'm not," she repeated as if he were stupid. "At liberty to say."

The general waved a hand at Teller to indicate he be silent.

"If that's all, you've wasted your time. Adrian Pucey," he spit the name as if it were a curse. "will die before he steps foot onto American soil again."

Draco shook his head.

"You're making a grave mistake, General. My father—"

"Your father is a tyrant and an abomination," the general snarled. "We will not bow to either, nor will we cede London to the Solarrii."

"Look around," Leolin said. "The city is already lost. Pucey rules with an iron fist from the Hall of Justice, your agents have virtually no freedom of movement, and thanks to the wards, you couldn't mobilise your troops to aid in any major skirmishes outside the city limits."

"No," Sainte-Croix said in answer, nostrils flaring. "I will die before I abandon this city."

Leolin opened her mouth to argue, as did Draco and Teller, but Gia spoke before they could hurl their next insults.

"That's what Remo Medici said," she said in a voice she wished she could keep from quaking. All eyes in the room snapped to her, and she swallowed and kept going. "After Sforza and Nico Borgia made deals with the Sollarrii and let them march through Milan and Rome, Remo swore he'd defend Florence to the last man." She bowed her head, throat bobbing again. "I was in the city when it fell, General. There was so much blood in the streets that you couldn't even see the cobblestones, and I was glad La Genie du Mal had taken Il Gigante away, because I wouldn't have wanted David to see the city he'd protected for over five hundred years so debased."

Leolin and Teller exchanged a terse glance at the statue's mention, but neither dared to interrupt her.

"Now the Sollarrii banner flies over the Palazzo della Signoria, and Medici had no aurors left to help Barbarossa defend Naples, or to send to France, when she needed it. Is that how you want to be remembered? As a man too proud to know when he is overmatched?"

No one spoke—no one breathed, even—as Sainte Croix studied her with the full weight of his gaze.

"Listen to her, General, and get your men out while you still can," Beau said finally. "Leave this city, and live to fight another day with us."

His eyes dragged from the general to Gia herself, and he gave her a small nod. His blue eyes gleamed as they rested on her, and with all his smugness drained, she was struck for the first time by how handsome he was. Unnerved, she look away towards Draco instead, who was also looking at her not as a little sibling, but as an equal.

The general clenched his jaw, rubbing at a scar which ran from his brow bone to his ear.

"No," he said finally.

"Papa—"

"Pe bouch," he told Celeste, though his eyes were still on Gia, bleeding her dry. "I am _not_ Remo Medici. He was a boy who didn't know a thing about war. I am a soldier, and I do not back down from a fight."

"Then this building's going to be your tomb," Felix said.

Sainte-Croix bared his teeth in a feral gesture.

"So be it."

"Be reasonable, Dieter," the older woman, Sotinia, said.

"Tell us how you came by this intelligence," Teller said to Leolin, and she pursed her lips.

"I already told you I wouldn't. I protect my sources, the same as you."

"If you won't tell us, how do we know it is viable?" Sainte-Croix demanded. "Or worse, that you and the Lord Protector aren't colluding to—"

At this, Draco whipped out a wand no one seemed to realise he'd still had hidden on him, and with a flick an invisible hand tightened at the general's throat.

"How dare you?" he sneered, and the general coughed at the mounting pressure.

The others in his cabinet tensed, drawing their wands as well, but there was nothing they could do in time that would stop Draco from snapping his neck. Gia glanced at Leolin, who was pale but resolute. Gia didn't exactly know the history between she and Pucey beyond the basics, but the rumours of his intentions were enough to make Gia sick. That he wanted to possess Leolin, as if she were a trophy or a prized mare. That he wanted to break her, and force children from her to both Leolin and Draco's humiliation and shame.

Celeste shot Leolin an almost pleading glance as her father's face reddened, and Leolin placed a hand on Draco's wand arm. The hand eased, judging by the general jagged intake of breath, but the tension in his neck muscles suggested it had yet to vanish entirely.

"Never speak to me like that again," Leolin said calmly, and with that Draco's hand dropped, though not before Gia felt a barrier go up between their side of the table and the general's, discouraging a retaliatory blow.

The general coughed, eyes bulging as he jabbed a finger to the door.

"Get. Out," he rasped, and Leolin's lip curled.

"With pleasure," she said, rising to her feet. "But know that when the Solarrii overrun this place, I will not send troops to help you."

Saint Croix responded by spitting on the floor.

"Hail and farewell, then, General," she said, offering an old solider's epitaph. She then turned to the other, jerking her head. "Allez," she said. "Allons-y."

She disappeared into the hall with a swish of her tailored coat, and Gia didn't dare a glance back at the general as she and the others followed Leolin into the hall.

Leolin grabbed Gia by the elbow as they descended the stairs.

"You were brilliant," she said, grip sending a jolt of warmth up Gia's arm. "Thank you."

Gia could only offer a weak smile, still unsure of how she'd been able to be so bold with a man who so outranked her in age and experience, and hoping she didn't just dishonor her father's memory by speaking to his friend with such bald disrespect.

As if reading her expression, Draco gave her a reassuring look.

"He would have been proud of you, Giacomina," he told her, ad she managed a smile, one which he returned. It was so unendingly beautiful that even now—when it was clear just how much he worshipped Leolin, and how far he'd go to protect her—it made Gia's stomach fill with butterflies.

"Lefevre!" a voice called, and they all stopped halfway across the marble foyer to watch Celeste tearing down the stairs towards them. "Wait!"

Leolin paused, though her expression was cool as she waited for Celeste to catch up to them.

"I'm sorry," she said a bit breathlessly. "About my father's stubbornness, and about what he said about you and Pucey. I know—"

"The history between the Lord Protector is _not_ something I'm willing to discuss," Leolin bit out. "What do you want?"

"I will do my best to convince my father, but if I can't, and the Solarrii do break our defenses—"

Celeste trailed off, but her plea was clear enough in her tone. Draco and Felix both stiffened at the insiniuation, shifting from foot to foot.

"Why should we risk our lives, especially in the face of something so avoidable?" Felix said.

Celeste bit her lip.

"I don't have a good answer for that, but please, Lefevre, don't abandon us."

Leolin clenched her teeth, opening and closing her left hand as if itching for her wand.

"I'll consider it," she said finally. "Now give us back our weapons and get us out of here."

Celeste did as she was bid, and they made the return journey in complete silence, even Beau managing to keep his glib commentary at bay. Only when they were back in the courtyard of the abbey, still panting slightly, did he dare to speak.

"Well damn," he said in a mild voice. "Now what?"

* * *

*PHEW* that was a crazy long chapter! Way longer than I intended. The Stars and Stripes, Part II, is coming soon (I promise) If you'd like a sneak preview, leave a review!


	8. Chapter 8: The Stars and Stripes, Pt II

A/N: Okay, I know, I'm a hideous person. I have been psycho busy and to be honest, this chapter was a bitch. Still, I am, as always, endeavouring to get back into a more regular schedule now. Luckily I do have a roadmap for where the story is going, so hope springs eternal. So I know that I really don't have much room to ask for this since it's been a goddamn age, but my birthday was last week and reviews really are my everything and you would make all my birthday wishes come true if you were to comment on the chapter. Also, as always reviews also come with chapter previews.

* * *

Chapter 8: The Stars and Stripes, Pt II

* * *

Adrian stood in the dark wing of the alley's shadow, his teeth clenched to keep them from chattering. Dawn was still an hour off, and the cold had sunk in bone-deep, fraying his already-strained nerves.

He glanced down at the map Troy had drawn of Cullen Braddock's patrol route, swearing—low and vicious—as the dot on it paused for the millionth time.

Braddock was General Saint-Croix's Head of Intelligence, and one of only seven agents, so far as they could gather, whose magic had clearance enough to bypass any and all of the Embassy's wards. Troy had been tracking Braddock for weeks, marking his routine as Adrian assessed the route for weak points. It had been tedious work, but the thrum in Adrian's blood as the dot inched closer to their hiding spot told him it would be well worth it.

"Could Braddock be _any_ slower?" Tate growled from across the cramped alley, rubbing his hands together. The didn't dare use any magic to stay warm. "I swear to Merlin, five more minutes out here and my bollocks are going to fall off."

Adrian gave a coarse huff of amusement, the tendrils of his breath hanging in the frigid air.

"I'm serious," Tate said. "We've been here for a goddamn age."

Anaïs—who stood next to Tate—said nothing, though her slitted cat eyes gleamed animal bright in the darkness as she peered towards the opening where Braddock was due to appear. Her ears were elongated as well, and she cocked her head in a feline gesture as she listened to something Adrian himself couldn't yet hear.

He rolled his neck to conceal a shudder of revulsion, turning his head away to avoid watching her. He didn't think he'd ever fully master the way her shifting made his blood go cold, even considering how useful it had proved to be. She seemed to sense his aversion, because when he threw another wary glance in her direction, it was to find Leolin staring back at him, indigo eyes roiling like a nautical storm preparing to dash him on the rocks.

"Is this better, Lord Protector?" Anaïs said in Leolin's silvery Welsh lilt, batting the latter's thick lashes as she pinned him with a searing look.

He couldn't quite fend off the pleasurable tightening in his belly at seeing her, at the rise and fall of her full breasts and almost lascivious curve of her lips, even as he bared his gleaming teeth to Anaïs in a feral gesture of his own.

"Knock it off," he snarled quietly, ignoring the trill in his pulse as she gave a pouty shrug, crushing blue eyes going black as sin as she faded back into her usual appearance.

He glanced back down at the map, the dot nearly on them now as voices approached.

Braddock was flanked by two subordinates, just as Troy had described. Adrian drew his Sphinx-core wand and set the rubbish in the alley fluttering on a phantom wind even as he cast a dark tendril of power towards Braddock's mind.

 _Investigate_ , the soundless voice urged him. _Do it alone._

Braddock paused, squinting down the alley as Adrian melted further into shadow, his dark cloak swallowed up by the blackness of its belly.

"Sir?" one of the others asked as Braddock drew his wand.

"Go ahead," Braddock said. "I'll meet you up."

The two agents exchanged a glance, but Braddock only rolled his eyes.

"Now," he said, the light from his wand illuminating a sizable slice of the narrow corridor. The beam reached almost to the tip of Adrian's well-shined boot, and he slid his foot back and caught Tate's eye, putting a finger to his lips.

Tate nodded his understanding, steadying his wand grip as Braddock approached before casting a charm to cut the sounds of the alley off from the street beyond.

Braddock was a hulking brute of a man, standing half as wide again at the shoulder as Adrian himself, a fact the latter didn't fail to note as he stepped into the light and grinned.

"Hello, Cullen," he said, lowering his hood. "Lovely morning for a stroll, don't you think?"

Braddock hurled a curse Adrian managed to defect, even if it'd come at him fast enough to spike his pulse.

"You've made a huge mistake," Braddock said through clenched teeth, throwing another curse. "I'm not alone."

"What a coincidence; neither am I."

In an instant, Tate had Braddock's arms pinned behind his back, and Adrian thrust an invisible fist into Braddock's chest with a flick of his wand before silencing him.

"Strip him," Adrian told Anaïs, enjoying the panic roiling in Braddock's eyes as his cloak, shirt, trousers, and boots disappeared into tendrils of smoke before re-materialising in Anaïs's outstretched hand.

Braddock continued to struggle against Tate—who was nearly his same size—before the latter forced him to his knees. He thrashed even then, and Adrian rolled his eyes.

"Enough," he said, sending a torrent of icy water crashing over Braddock's head, breaking like a wave on rocks and cascading down his back and chest.

Adrian felt a dark amusement tug at him as Braddock jerked and shivered, lips going first white and then, after a moment, a grayish blue.

"Better," Adrian mused, turning to a now-dressed Anaïs as she began to morph, breasts shrinking and chest widening as the joints in her fingers popped and her spine lengthened.

When she was done, she straightened to Braddock's full height, and ever at six feet, Adrian had to tilt his chin to meet her—meet _Braddock's_ —eye.

Adrian ignored Tate's groan of disgust as the real Braddock emptied the contents of his stomach onto the cobblestones.

They could hear now, through the muffle of Tate's silencing charm, the two guarding circling back to investigate.

Adrian and Tate heaved Braddock to his feet, his body continuing to convulse with violent shivers.

"Captain?" one of the agents called as Tate pressed Braddock's yew wand into Anaïs's hand. "Are you alright?"

"Keep a low profile," Adrian reminded her as the man appeared, approaching warily.

"Fine," Anaïs told him in Braddock's gruff Cornish bark. "It was just a damn cat."

Again, the subordinates exchanged a look, and Anaïs gave them a withering stare.

"At this juncture, we can't be too careful," she snapped, as if annoyed at having to explain herself. "Enough gawking; let's go."

Adrian could feel the real Braddock straining, but the hypothermia was well on it's way to setting in, and already he'd grown more pliant in his disorientation.

When the three of them were gone entirely, footsteps fading into nothing as their markers retreated back towards what Tory had reported to be the Embassy's cladestine back entrance, Adrian let Braddock's near dead weight slump to the ground, partially into the puddle of his own vomit.

"Go back to the palace and rally the troops," Adrian told Tate, kneeling down to fix an iron collar around Braddock's thick neck. "We'll attack after the five o'clock shift change."

Tate nodded.

"And you?"

"Braddock and I are going to see the Emperor," he grinned, tugging Braddock up by his collar. "We have a key to forge."

* * *

Leolin stood at the lake's edge, its surface gilded by the cold by bright late afternoon sun. She plucked an arrow from when she'd driven it into the ground, fitting it the string of the old bow of James's she'd found in the game room before letting it fly. She wasn't a very good shot, but it was a satisfying enough way to pass the time, especially without the frustration of a target to bother with.

"If you're going to play with that horrid thing thing," a voice called from behind her. "At least wear an arm guard."

Leolin glanced down at the contused skin of her right forearm, which had already begun to bruise from the repeated abuse of the bowstring's recoil.

She didn't turn as her mother's footsteps grew closer.

"Hiding out?" Ariadne said, but Leolin didn't reply, simply nocked another arrow and pulled the bow taut again.

"Of course not," she said, letting the arrow go with a grunt and watching as it soared into the lake and disappeared through the thin ice with a satisfying hiss. "Just—deliberating."

Leolin had recalled every available Order member back to the abbey after the meeting with the IAO, even if she hadn't told them why, and the place was now packed to the rafters. The close quarters had put everyone on edge, especially after Leolin had removed all the alcohol and instituted a curfew and regular training every morning.

It had been almost three weeks, and she still wasn't sure what she planned to do if Adrian made good on his promise to attack the Embassy. It had sent a splintering schism through her closed council, which she'd temporarily expanded to accommodate Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, Harry's wife Grace, Lachlan, Beau, and Gia.

Max had called her a coward and a quitter when she'd expressed reservations about sending her people into a mess not their own, while Harry and Ron had insisted she'd done everything she could to help the IAO, and if they chose to ignore her warning, the responsibility of it was theirs to bear alone. Ginny and Blaise had echoed the sentiment, albeit with less vehemence, and every time Leolin watched them with Ava, she felt the true weight of the decision pushing on her chest.

However, Felix, Xavier, and Draco hadn't voiced their opinions either way, even at her insistence, and that weighed on her, too.

"You know your stepfather insists there's a giant squid in this lake, don't you?" Ariadne said as she approached. "Be careful where you aim."

Leolin gave a huff of muted amusement and lowered her bow, resting her chin atop it.

"Talk to me, cariad," Ariadne urged, touching Leolin's back. "What's on your mind?"

"I don't know what to do," Leolin confessed, turning to face her mother. "I'm so rubbish at this, and I feel like whatever decision I make is going to be wrong."

"Be kind to yourself, Leolin," Ariadne said. "It would a hefty responsibility for anyone."

"What would you do, if you were me?" Leolin asked.

Ariadne considered.

"Honestly, I don't know."

Leolin pursed her lips, looking out onto the lake again.

"Why is it that you're always teeming with unsolicited advice, but when I really need your opinion, you never have anything to say?"

Ariadne laughed softly.

"A mother's privilege, I suppose."

"I'm serious, Mum!" Leolin snapped.

"I know," Ariadne said, taking the bow away from Leolin and setting it on the ground before indicating they sit on the small bench several yards off.

Leolin huffed but followed, sitting down next to her mother and resting her head on Ariadne's shoulder, allowing her to smooth a hand over Leolin's glossy hair.

"What do I do?" Leolin repeated as Ariadne continue to smooth her hair, the way she had when Leolin was younger.

"I don't know, lapin," Ariadne said. "But for what it's worth, I am sorry you're been put in this position. If I'd known it would come to something like this, I—" she sighed, resting her cheek on the top of Leolin's head. "But there's a reason everyone chose you. They trust you to make this decision. You need to trust yourself as well."

"But they didn't all choose me, did they?" Leolin said, unable to keep the bitterness from her tone.

"I did," Ariadne reminded her. "I didn't want to—you're my child, and my instinct will always be to protect you, no matter the cost—but when I looked at you that day and saw the woman you've become, I knew she was the one this cause needed."

Leolin tried to take the compliment in stride, but the bare sincerity in Ariadne's tone caught in her throat, and she had to swallow several times to dispel it.

"Life is full of tough choices, my darling," Ariadne said. "And there isn't always going to be a right or wrong one you can make. I'm not going to lie to you; whatever you decide, there will be likely be consequences. The best you can do now is trust your instincts and weather them. I can promise you is that either way, you won't have to weather them alone. I'm on your side, and so are Draco and James and plenty of other people. You don't have to shoulder the burden by yourself, Leolin. When the time comes—if it comes—we will be with you. Besides, you don't know what the future holds. This could play out any number of ways."

Leolin nodded, though the tightness in her chest remained.

"I wish this wasn't happening," she admitted after a minute or two of silence. "Or even if it was, that it was happening to someone else. How horribly selfish is that?"

Ariadne exhaled a mothering breath.

"It's human," she amended. "Only a liar or a Gryffindor would say they wanted a burden like this. And even then, they'd be lying."

Leolin didn't smile, but she felt a small warmth blooming, loosening the hempen knot she felt like she'd swallowed.

"You sound like Draco."

Ariadne gave a faint laugh.

"Don't give him all the credit," Ariadne said, smoothing Leolin's hair again. "I've been rolling my eyes at Gryffindor antics since before either of you were even born."

Leolin still couldn't muster whatever it would have taken to laugh or smile, but she nestled closer, breathing in the familiar bergamot and rose scent she'd always associated with Ariadne.

"Thanks Mum," she said in a soft voice.

"Anytime. Now, can I interest you in some unsolicited advice? About how you've been parting your hair these days…"

Leolin gave a huff of amusement.

"I love you, cariad," Ariadne said in response. "Don't give in to despair yet. There's plenty of the good fight left to be had."

Leolin only nodded, letting her lashes sweep her cheeks as Ariadne smoothed Leolin's aforementioned hair off her brow. They sat for several minutes in contented silence until a voice echoed behind them.

"There they are," Draco called. "My two favourite girls."

"Liar," Leolin said, sitting up a bit. "Ava's your favourite and everyone knows it."

"I can't help it," Draco said, bracing his hands on the back of the bench. "She has the tiniest little fingers and toes. It's so cute I want to burst into tears."

Ariadne laughed.

"It takes a big man to admit that," she pointed out. "I think this one's a keeper, lapin."

"Eh, he's alright," Leolin said with a shrug. "I mostly just like his perfect p—"

"Leolin Marie!" Ariadne squawked. "Watch your mouth!"

At this Leolin did laugh, and she realised how long it had been since she'd had the urge. It felt good, despite her mother's scornful tone.

"What?" she asked, smiling a little now, too. "I was going to say posture!"

Ariadne flicked her nose.

"What am I going to do with you?"

"I can think of a few things I'd like to," Draco offered, and Ariadne swiveled to give him a withering frown.

"That's enough, both of you."

Leolin and Draco traded a mirthful glance, and Ariadne pursed her lips.

"And on that unseemly note," she said archly, rising to her feet and giving them both a look that was hard enough Leolin actually blushed. "I think I'll take my leave. Wash your mouths out before dinner, please."

Draco only chuckled, earning his own flick on the nose.

"Love you," Draco said, and Ariadne pursed her lips, though Leolin could tell it was only to fend off a smile.

"Be good," she said. "I mean it."

"We'll take it under advisement," Leolin said as Draco sank down beside her, and Ariadne flicked her ear.

"I think I hear James calling," she said, batting her mother's hand away as she settled against Draco's chest. "Love you, Mum."

"Incorrigible," Ariadne said without malice, turning towards the house. "See you both in a bit."

Leolin gave a soft hum of affirmation, twining her fingers with Draco's as Ariadne retreated. They didn't speak even after Ariadne's footsteps had faded, and Leolin allowed herself to be soothed by the measured beat of Draco's heart.

"How can I help?" he said finally, tugging her wrist up so he could kiss the contused lump the bowstring had left.

"I would say distract me," Leolin said, reaching up to twine her fingers in his silky hair. "But at this point, it just feels like an invitation for Felix to interrupt us."

Draco huffed a small laugh against her neck.

"Don't remind me," he said with dark amusement. "It's gotten to the point where just seeing him gets me a little hard."

"Ew, Drake!" she said, and he laughed again.

"I'm kidding," he said. "You know the only person who ever gets me hard is you."

"Just quit while you're behind," she said with a resigned laugh, and he smiled and kissed your ear.

"I love hearing you laugh again," he breathed more seriously. "It keeps me going."

She tried not to stiffen at that, forcing her shoulders to remain down as she pressed her back into him. He nudged her jaw with his nose to allow him better access to her neck, tongue and teeth leaving a burning eddy in their wake.

"What is it?" he said, breath skittering across her skin. "Tell me."

"What do I do, Drake?" she said. "What would you do?"

His lips stilled even as his arms tightened around her.

"Honestly, I'm not sure," he admitted. "What did your mum say?"

She sighed.

"The same, essentially."

"And what does your gut tell you?"

"That I'm out of my depth."

"That's not true," he said with a fierceness that went so bone-deep she had the fend off the shudder.

"You were right; I don't know the first thing about winning a battle, let alone a war."

"Leolin," he said with unexpected levity. "You stole a seventeen-foot marble statue out of a public square without getting caught. "I'm fairly sure you can do anything."

She laughed despite herself, and she could feel his answering smile against her neck.

"There it is," he breathed. "My salvation."

This time it was warmth, not tightness, that spread through her chest, pleasant and powerful enough to make her scalp tingle.

"What do you think the odds are," she said after a beat of contented silence. "That Saint-Croix took my warning and left?"

He considered, though she could feel his answer in the constricting muscles in his stomach and chest.

"If he's smart he will have," he said after too much deliberation. "It's the best chance the IAO has of maintaining their numbers."

She shook her head, feeling foolish she'd even been weak enough to ask, to give that unspoken fear shape. She could feel the dull edge of it scraping against her now.

"He didn't," she said in a flat voice. "If he had, we would have heard from him by now. Even if he hadn't had the balls to come, Celeste would have reached out."

He sighed his tacit agreement, arms tightening around her again.

"I'm sorry, my love," he said. "I know this isn't want you wanted."

She shrugged, if only to try and subtly dislodge the aching knot between her shoulder blades.

"It was a long shot," she admitted. "Crofton's never listened to me. I had no reason to think Saint-Croix would be any different."

Draco growled with enough vehemence that she could feel it vibrating through her spine and the cage of her ribs.

"Fucking Teller," he said in a low growl. "Every time he talks I get the oddest urge to rip his tongue out."

"He's not my favorite, either," she admitted. "But I still owe him. If he hadn't stepped in last time, Adrian very well could have—" she broke off.

"No," Draco said in a reassuring voice. "Never. And if Adrian really is stupid enough to attack the Embassy, so be it. It just means I'll be able to finally tear his head from his shoulders and be done with it." He paused before continuing. "Or you can."

There was a note of dark but genuine sincerity in his tone, and she let the utterance drop between them, sinking like a stone in water.

"Yes," she said finally.

"Yes what?"

"I want to be the one to do it, if at all possible."

"Then he's yours," he conceded with grace, though she could tell it pained him to say it, to cede control and accept she let herself be so exposed, so vulnerable.

"I don't want to talk about him," she said, resting her head at the junction of his neck and broad shoulder.

"Then what should we talk about?"

She considered.

"I think you were about to tell me what I should do, once and for all."

Despite everything, he laughed.

"I wish I could. But maybe I can distract you with some abbey gossip instead; did you know Chaisson is sleeping with someone?"

She groaned.

"Oh Godric, please tell me it isn't Gia."

"I asked the same. Thankfully no. I couldn't see who it was, though."

"Could be any number of unsuspecting idiots," Leolin said with resignation. "I admit his emotional education lessons have fallen off a bit since the war started."

"My galleons are on that hot healer friend of Langdon Blackburn's."

"I'm going to guess Madison Livingston," Leolin said. "She and Finnegan just split up, and she's nothing if not petty and vengeful."

He smiled against her cheek, breathing in the scent of her coconut shampoo.

"The plot thickens."

She turned to give him a small smile in return, and his eyes glittered as he studied her.

"What?" she said, brushing her nose to his and feeling lighter than she had in ages.

"You're exquisite," he breathed, pressing forward to kiss her. "And I love you."

"I love you, too," she said, and feeling a bit overwhelmed by the earnestness in his gaze, she added, "And I was lying earlier, about your posture. It is lovely, but I _was_ going to say penis."

He laughed.

"You saucy minx!"

She laughed a little too, kissing him again. It was meant to be a chaste gesture, a silent communication of lips on lips, but she didn't fight his tongue as it swept across hers. She grew breathless as the kiss intensified, a pleasant warmth tightening in her belly. Even after ten years, she knew that there would never come a day when Draco didn't make her weak-kneed and wet.

"What do you say?" he asked against her mouth, shifting her a bit so he could nestle between her thighs. "Should we roll the dice and go upstairs? Maybe Chaisson is with his mystery woman and we can fit in a short shag in peace."

She huffed, but it turned into a soft groan as his tugged at her earlobe with his teeth.

"We shouldn't," she admitted, even as she angled her head to give him access to the column of her throat. "We still don't know when—"

He stilled, pulling back to study her.

"We can't stop living our lives, Cal," he said seriously. "If we do, they win."

She nodded, but instead of continuing his machinations, he simply tucked her head under his chin instead.

"Why don't we go find your mum and James, then?" he offered. "We still owe them an arse-kicking in pool."

She nodded and they rose, even as a flicker of movement over the lake caught both their attention. Without a word, Draco picked up Leolin's forgotten bow, nocking an arrow to the string as he pulled it tight and ran his index finger over the elegant pheasant fletching. It had a longer range than a wand, and Leolin knew Draco's innate hand-eye coordination was likely to make him a rather wicket shot, even considering his less than perfect eyesight.

"What is it?" she demanded, drawing her wand as he tracked the movement with the arrow's gleaming tip. "It's moving fast."

"And against the wind," he said, pulling the bow back farther.

He prepared to loose the arrow as the small hawk came into view, wings beating furiously as it gave a piercing shriek.

"Drake, don't!" she said as the hawk came closer and he pulled the bow completely taut, muscles in his arms straining at the pressure. "I don't think it's—"

As if in answer, the hawk—which was now mere feet from them—melted into a young man, who collapsed onto the pebbled beach.

He was young—no older than nineteen or twenty—and his dark blonde hair was plastered to his head with sweat. His face was coated in grime, but Leolin could see two tracks down his cheeks from recent tears.

"Who are you?" Draco demanded, not bothering to loosen the string even as the man held up his hands in surrender.

"No, please!" he said. "Don't shoot!"

"Who are you?" Leolin said, putting a hand on Draco's arm to indicate he lower the bow, even as she kept her wand trained on the stranger.

"Ferrys Pruitt," he said. "IAO intelligence. I'm General Saint-Croix's secretary."

Leolin and Draco exchanged a look.

"You came from the Embassy?" Leolin asked as Ferrys gave a shuddering breath.

He only nodded.

"The Solarrii stormed the Embassy and disabled the wards. He—he sent me."

"Who?" Draco said. "Saint-Croix?"

A weak shake of the head this time.

"The Lord Protector."

"Why?" Leolin demanded, but before she could press, Ferrys drew his dark coat back, wincing as he drove two fingers into the wound in his side.

"What are you—" Leolin began in horror, but Ferrys pulled out a sodden note and extended it to her as he clamped a hand over the weeping gash to staunch the fresh flow of blood.

She willed her fingers to stop shaking as she took the folded parchment, stained scarlet, and unfolded it.

 _Trick or treat, Lef_ , it read in curling script. _Come play._

Ferrys gave a weak cough, and Leolin pressed the note into Draco's hand before melting to the younger boy's side. Draco's face drained as he read it.

"This changes things, Lai," he breathed

"How many Solarrii?" Leolin said, pressing her hand over Ferrys's, trying staunch the blood but only really suceeding in send it gushing between her fingers.

"Fifty," Fenrys said. " Maybe more. Plus—" he broke off, glancing up at Draco and wincing at the expression on his face. "Plus the Emperor."

"Was anyone evacuated?" Leolin said, not having the courage to turn and look at Draco, too.

Ferrys shook his head.

"No," he admitted. "The general didn't deem it—" he coughed. "A viable threat."

"And what about now?" Draco growled, voice flat and sharp, the edge of a wicked blade.

"Not now, Drake," Leolin said, biting her lip as more blood welled, and Ferrys whimpered in pain. "Go find Langdon."

Draco gave a low, soft snarl.

"What about—"

Leolin felt an oily panic sliding in, cold and viscous, and she held up a hand to silence him.

"Now," she said in a firm tone. "Please."

Draco gave another soft growl of frustration, but he did as he was told, tearing up the gravel path and back into the house.

Leolin pressed her hand to Ferrys's side again, eliciting yet another cry of pain that hissed out through Ferrys's clenched teeth.

After a moment he pushed out a shaky inhale before sucking air in through his nose. As his chest fell in a more even breath, he turned to look at her. "Please," he said, dark eyes pleading. "Don't leave them."

Leolin clenched her jaw, looking down.

"I told the general this would happen," she said. "And that I wouldn't be able to help them when it did."

"I know," Ferrys pleaded. "But we couldn't—" he broke off, voice breaking. "Please, my fiancée is in there."

She permitted herself a shuddering exhale.

"And how many others?"

Ferrys shook his head but said, "at least two hundred."

Leolin didn't know what to say, but she was saved from answering as Langdon came tearing down path, Draco and his aforementioned female colleague in tow.

Without a word, the woman knelt, taking Leolin's position with a calm dismissal. Leolin leapt to her feet as Langdon joined her, and she stumbled back several paces into Draco's arms as she found of a surging dizziness.

"Lai," Draco said, grip tightening on her shoulders. "Are you—"

"Get the closed council," she said in answer, brushing off his touch and making to run a hand through her hair before remembering the blood and thinking better of it. "I want everyone in the war room in ten minutes."

"Leolin," he began in a voice soft enough that Ferrys and the others couldn't hear. "You can't be seriously considering this."

"Get me my council," she replied. "And have James gather everyone else. We're leaving for London within the hour."

He blew out a breath before nodding, touching her cheek before heading off. She let out a jagged exhale herself as she glanced back at Ferrys's and the healers before retreating to the house as well.

The exterior doors burst open as she approached, and Xavier's expression was grave as he scanned her face.

"General," he said, and for once she didn't protest. "I just ran into Malfoy. What's going on?"

"Saint-Croix didn't listen to me, and now The Embassy is under attack. Get to the war room; I have to get a message out."

"Have you heard from Troy?"

She shook her head.

"I assume he's rather busy at the moment. Go, get Ren and the others. Tell anyone who gives you lip that they'll answer to me for it."

She was already drawing out her floo as he tore back inside, sending a frantic message before following. It was a long shot, she knew, but no wasn't the time for unturned stones.

The council was already assembled when she burst into the chamber several minutes later, everyone on their feet at once.

"What's going on?" Reagan demanded, and Leolin found she didn't have the patience to demand why she was there.

In answer, Draco projected Adrian's bloody taunt onto the wall.

"So, what?" Reagan continued archly. "We storm The Embassy? That seems to be what Pucey's expecting. Do we even know exactly what we up against?"

Leolin's mouth tightened at Reagan's unrelenting impertinence, but she cut her gaze to Felix instead, who stood to Reagan's immediate left.

"Fifty Solarrii, we think. Possibly more."

"And the Lord Protector, apparently," Harry pointed out, gesturing to the wall.

Leolin could feel Draco's eyes on her, but she didn't have the courage to look at him, so she merely shrugged.

"It's his city," was all she said in response to Harry's comment, ignoring Ron's rather unhelpful one entirely. "I'd expect nothing less from him."

"What about Lucius?" Ginny said.

Leolin still couldn't look at Draco, knowing they were thinking the same thing.

"We don't know."

"Oh fuck me," Ron Weasley blurted in answer, but it only took one look from his sister to silence him.

"And blockage on the ward?" Harry asked, shooting Ron a stern glance as well. The latter only huffed and rolled his eyes in a gesture of " _we were all thinking it."_

Leolin permitted herself an long, measured exhale, slow enough to keep her voice steady.

"I have an idea what's jamming them, but I don't know for sure," she admitted.

"Lai, you can't be seriously considering this," Grace piped up from beside Harry. "It's suicide, or worse."

"I have a plan," Leolin said in reply, swishing her wrist so the note vanished from the wall. She couldn't bear to look at it anymore.

A beat a silence fell, breaking over them like a wave on the breaker. Leolin throat bobbed, but she didn't speak.

"Well we'd love to hear it," Reagan cut in finally, and Leolin clenched a fist to keep from biting back to her. When this was over, she was going to read Felix the fucking riot act for letting Reagan into a closed council meeting.

"Good," Leolin snapped, cutting her gaze to Reagan and hoping the sharpness in her gaze was enough to shut her up. "Because you're going to be me. Ren, you, James, and Blaise are in charge."

"Wait, what—" Felix began, but Leolin only shook her head.

"We're not going to storm The Embassy," she explained, ignoring Max's bark of indignation. "We're storming The Hall of Justice."

"What the Hell for?" Blaise said.

Everyone exchanged glances as a collective murmur bubbled up, Max and Beau's protestations coalescing with the others' bemused and fretful questions.

"As a distraction," a new voice cut in from the doorway.

At this, everyone turned to gawk at Effie, who stood leaning against the doorframe, back straight to support the long blade sheathed along her spine.

"Who the Hell are you?" Ron blurted, but Effie didn't answer him, her hair gleaming even brighter than his as she brush past him, crossing to Leolin instead.

"General," she said, in a voice that was flat but lacking in malice. "I got your note."

She extended a hand that Leolin shook in silent thanks.

"You made good time," she said in response.

Effie shrugged.

"I was in the neighborhood."

"Enough fucking theatrics, Lefevre," Max said, crossing his thick arms across his chest. "Tell us what's going on."

"We need to relieve the pressure at The Embassy," Leolin explained, turning to Felix again. "Take the rest of the Order and go and stir up as much trouble as you possibly can. Free prisoners, start fires, I don't care. Just make it big."

"And you?" Hermione said.

Leolin bowed her head to relieve the pressure pulsing up her spine.

"Xavy, Effie, and I are going to The Embassy. I think I have a fairly good idea of how Adrian's jamming the wards. Or at least, I know someone there who will."

"What?" Felix demanded. "Just the three of you?"

"My mum, too. And Gia and Taylor."

Gia and Beau traded a bemused (if somewhat begrudging) glance even as Blaise growled, "absolutely not."

"Blaise—" Ginny warned, but he hotly brushed off the hand she put on his arm to steady him.

"No, fuck that!" he snarled. "There is no way I'm going to let—"

"Stand down, Z," Draco warned, and Blaise's teeth bared as Draco added, "not a fight you're going to win."

"Stay out of this! It's none of your—"

"Enough, goddamnit!" Leolin roared, slamming her hands down on the table and making Grace and Hermione wince as the bickering dissolved into stinging silence. "Just...stop," she repeated. She let out a shuddering breath before turning to her friend, barely recognising the distain in his jade eyes. "Gia is not a child, Blaise. She is strong and capable, and she will go where she is needed. Tonight, I need her at The Embassy. She's seen the set-up of the barracks, and people listen to her. I need her and Taylor to rally's the IAO troops until I can break the wards."

"Leolin—" Blaise tried again, voice more of a plea now, but she cut him off again.

"I said _enough_ ," Leolin snarled with deadly quiet.

"At least let me come with you, then," Blaise said, half rising from his chair.

"I said no, Blaise!" Leolin snapped. "If I let you go and fret over her, you'll be putting both of yourselves in danger! Give your sister the respected she deserves; she's earned it."

Blaise blanched at the sharpness of her rebuke, and Leolin pinned him with a storm-ridden glare.

"Do as I say or you will be staying here with Ginny."

At this, Leolin glanced at Gia instead. She, too, was pale, but she gave Leolin a nod.

"I'll watch her back, Zabini," Beau said into the tense silence that followed. "You have my word."

Blaise gave him a look so hateful it singed the air between them with a near audible hiss.

"You fucking better," he snarled softly.

Gia looked at Leolin again in silent appreciation, and Leolin gave her a small wink. Not a gesture of mirth, but a unspoken assurance of faith her mother sometimes gave her.

"Six people is pretty light coverage, Lai," Harry pointed out after a beat, voice gentle.

Leolin permitted herself another breath.

"I'm not a general," she admitted, voice meek enough to be a child's. "I'm a thief. I'm going in the only way I know how."

"The only way we know how," Effie corrected, something like that old sparkle in her eyes, the one she always got before a big grab.

"And me?"

Everyone turned to look at Draco, and he bristled a little. Leolin exhaled before looking at him as well, feeling stunted by the weight in his eyes.

"I don't suppose there's any way I could convince you to go to The Hall of Justice instead," she ventured. "Or better yet, to stay here and guard the Abbey."

A muscles feathered in Draco's jaw.

"You know there isn't."

She nodded, throat tight.

"Then you're with me. Ren, get everyone else and leave as soon as your ready. I want the city in chaos by the time we get to The Embassy."

Felix nodded. For a second no one moved, and finally Ginny turned, pressing her face to Blaise's chest in silent farewell. At this, everyone else began to do the same, and Leolin crossed the room without a word, crushing into Felix's arms and listening to the hammered tattoo of his heart. He stroked her hair before pulling away.

"Donne-leur l'enfer," she told him, and he smiled, even as pain wore at the gesture's edges.

"I will," he promised. "You know I will."

She nodded, brushing a hand down his chest before stepping back.

"Go," she said. "Make me proud."

He winked, offering her the same reassurance she'd given Gia before striding off, Max and Reagan both on his heels. When only the seven of them remained, Leolin surveyed them each in turn.

"Get dressed," she said. "We leave in ten. And Mum, get Lachlan and tell him to start tearing hole's in the city's wards. As many as he can. I want the Solarrii stretched as thin as possible."

Ariadne nodded, kissing Leolin's cheek before disappearing with Xavier, Effie, Beau, and Gia. Draco gave Leolin a heavy look as he made to follow, but she grabbed him by the elbow.

"Drake, wait," she said, tugging him back so they were toe-to-toe.

She glanced up at him, his face perfect even through the strain. He didn't speak, waiting for her instead.

She tried to take a deep breath, but she found her throat tight, and it was little more than a strained huff.

"I won't ask you to take an unbreakable vow," she began, watching his jaw tighten again. "But I need you to give me your word that whatever happens tonight with me or Gia or my mum, you won't give yourself up to your father."

His eyes gleamed as he studied her.

"And if I can't?"

"Then I leave you here, even if I have to restraint you myself."

"Leolin—" he began, but she cut him off, shaking her head and steeling herself, forcing back the tears burning in her eyes through sheer force of will.

"No," she said, letting an icy calm settle over the smolder of panic, putting it out with a silent hiss. "No arguments, Drake. This is the only way. I need you to do this, no matter the cost. If you give him what he's after, we'll all be dead anyway." she paused, pushing on against the heaviness in her chest. "You know what he'll do otherwise. He'll drag you back to the palace to be his puppet and serve me up to Adrian, and I just can't—"

She broke off and took a steadying breath, and he pulled her to him, resting his head atop hers.

"Hey," he breathed. "That's never going to happen. I won't let it."

She shook her head and pulled back, trying to dispel the mania clawing up up the rungs of her spine, making her back ache.

"That's not enough," she said, voice rising. "Please—"

He grabbed her cheeks and held them, swiping the fresh tears away, the ones she couldn't hold back.

"You have my word," he said, brushing his thumbs across her cheekbones. "But it's not going to come to that; you have my word on that, too."

She nodded, and he tucked her back under his arm, running a hand down her back as her breathing evened out.

"I love you," she said into his chest, feeling the razor edge of focus—of battle—sliding in, cutting away the panic like a cancer.

"I love you, too," he said. "Let's do this."

The seven of them arrived in London within the quarter hour, standing at the yawning chasm of the splintered back passage Ferrys had described to Langdon, and which he'd relayed to Leolin just as they'd prepared to apparate. To true his word, Lachlan had torn the wards protecting the city to ribbons, and they'd been able to apparate nearly on top of the entrance.

Leolin could see only darkness as she peered down the entrance's gaping maw, and Effie was already nodding as Leolin turned to her.

"I'll scout ahead," she agreed, jogging into the black without another word.

"Right," Leolin said when she'd gone. "It's time. Xavier, you and my mum are going in first. You let the Solarrii see you, then you stay out of the thick of it as best you can. I don't think they'll be expecting to hear she's come, and it will hopefully catch them off guard. After that, you vanish," she repeated. She could see Xavier tensing to respond, but she held up a gloved hand to silence him. "No heroes today, Xav, I don't care _what's_ going on in there. We can't fight our way out of this. Eff and I need to get these wards down, and I won't be able to focus if I'm worrying about you. Gia, you need to find Celeste. Tell her to keep fighting. And take this," she said, offering Harry's invisibility cloak, which he'd given Leolin weeks ago to use at her discretion. "Taylor, go with her," she said before adding, "And I expect you to keep your word to Blaise. You protect her at all costs."

Beau nodded, running an eye over Gia that was so proprietary Leolin was glad Blaise wasn't there to see it.

"As you say, General," he agreed, still watching Gia.

"Drake," Leolin said softly after a beat. "You're with me."

He mutely nodded, and she brew out a breath.

"You aren't fighting for yourself today," she said . You're fighting for the person to your left and right." Everyone exchanged glances, and Leolin looked at her mother, struggling not to be overwhelmed by the love and fierce, mothering pride in her eyes, the same crushing blue as Leolin's own.

At seeing Leolin's expression, Ariadne pressed forward, holding Leolin the way she had since Leolin was a child.

"See you soon, cariad," she promised, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"Bon chance, Maman," Leolin said, forcing herself to step back from that safe harbour, to cede control as Draco took her place, resting his head on Ariadne's shoulder and allowing her to stroke his silken hair.

Leolin chest tightened at seeing him looking so young, so disarmed and vulnerable despite his size, that she turned away, gripping Xavier by the elbow instead and tugging him back so she could whisper, "Severina's invisibility ring. Do you have it?"

His jaw tightened at her mention, and Leolin dug her nails into his arm nearly hard enough to pierce the leather of his protective jacket.

"Xavier," she said, meeting his icy obsidean eyes. "We don't time for this. Do you have it or not?"

He considered before giving an almost imperceptible nod. Leolin blew out a breath before glancing back at Draco, who still stood in Ariadne's embrace.

His eyes flicked over her shoulder as well before sliding back to her.

"No matter what else is happening," she breathed, gaze pulsing back to Draco again.

Xavier nodded his understanding, slipping from her side and gravitating to Ariadne's instead.

Ariadne gave Leolin a final smile that warmed her from the inside out.

"Rwy'n dy garu di," she breathed to Leolin. _I love you._

Leolin nodded her agreement, throat too tight for speech as Effie reappeared, giving a mute nod. At that, Xavier offered Ariadne his hand and they began down the darkened path, disappearing within seconds. Still, Leolin waited until she couldn't hear their tread before turning to Gia and Beau.

"Now you two," Leolin said, watching Gia don the cloak and disappear. However, she remained close enough to Beau that he seemed to still know exactly where she was.

Leolin grabbed his arm before he could turn to follow Gia's near silent retreat, pinning him with every ounce of her power.

"With your life, Taylor," she reminded him, and he nodded grimly.

"With my life," he said, and then he too was gone.

Leolin slumped against the frigid stone wall when only Effie and Draco remained, counting each second as they tumbled one over the next. She's promised herself a five minute head start, but she knew immediately she'd be lucky to last two. Effie and Draco both watched her, though neither insulted her by offering comfort or advice. It was what she loved about them both, that they saw her—understood her—enough to believe she could actually pull this off.

It was Effie she turned to first.

"I wish Sweeney was here," Leolin admitted into the darkness, knowing they'd both been thinking it, and unable to bear that it might go unsaid.

Effie blinked back the limpid pearls lining her eyes and gave a soft smile, the first she'd offered Leolin since the night everything between them had shattered. She pressed a hand to her heart, a gesture both genteel and symbolic as she said, "He is."

Leolin bowed her head to conceal her own tears, and Effie bend a calm look of understanding on her before glancing up at Draco. Her expression was neutral, no hint of the distain she'd once professed to feel for him in her gaze.

"I'll give you two a minute," she said, striding down the corridor until it's fat-bellied shadow swallowed her up.

It was only then that Leolin allowed herself to look up at Draco. Needing no permission, he crushed her against the wall and kissed her, tongue tangling with hers and swallowing a strangled mew of fear. A cowardly part of Leolin wished, despite everything, that she could give into his comfort, and that she could strip down right here and let him make love to her in the dirt. She conquered the feeling by pushing him gently away, pressing her forehead to his instead.

"Remember your promise," she breathed against his lips as his fingers dug into her sides to the point of actual pain.

He nodded but said, "I won't need it."

He kissed her a final time, barely more than a brush of his lips to hers, before trailing a hand down to rest over her heart, willing it to calm.

"I love you," he said. "To whatever end."

"To whatever end," she agreed, and with that they took hands, following Effie around a bend and into the fray.

They emerged a second later to find entropy reigning supreme, the orderly barracks already unraveling into a maelstrom of writhing, cacophonous chaos.

Leolin had hardly taken more than two steps before she was reeling back, her arms thrown up to shield her face as two curses collided overhead, creating a catherine wheel of sparks.

"This way!" Effie scream over the din, gesturing to a felled corinthian column she was crouching behind.

Leolin and Draco pulled up their hoods and followed her, sliding across the rubble to join Effie, peering cautiously over the columns serrated edge.

"Oh fuck me," Draco gritted out, gesturing to where Adrian stood on the balcony, a maestro conducting the orchestra of madness unfolding below. His white Solarrii cloak was plenty stained, but he looked otherwise unharmed, and the ease in his posture, his self-satisfied smile, had Leolin's stomach threatening to fold into its own acid.

"What the bleeding hell is he doing here?" Effie demanded. "Does he not realise his entire fecking city's on fire?"

Leolin could feel Draco's gaze as it slid to her, and it made her throat ache.

"He's waiting for us," she explained before Draco could offer the same.

"Sick bastard," Effie said with emnity, but Leolin had no time to reply as something inside her jacket began to burn.

She hissed, clawing at her breast pocket, trying to wrestle the smouldering irritant free.

"What is it?" Draco asked as Leolin dropped the a small medallion onto the floor, its coppery face flashing.

"What's that?" Effie said, watching as Draco flicked it onto its edge and set it spinning like a drunken top.

Effie made to argue again, but it died on her lips as a voice spiraled up through the gyration's centre.

"Basement," it said simply. "Cullen Braddock's the bloke you're looking for. He won't be heavily guarded."

Kelly voice faded ever as the centre collapsed from the coin's rotation and it clattered onto its face and fell silent.

Almost in unison, they all peered over the column wincing down again as a curse struck its edge, sending a chunk of marble flying.

"The stairs are down the corridor off the North end of the ballroom," Leolin panted, scrabbling to stuff the coin back into her pocket.

"Are you insane?" Effie snarled. "We will _never_ make it."

"Not together," Draco said, daring another look at Adrian before ducking down.

"You're both fecking insane," Effie said, shaking her head in disgust. "It'll never work."

Leolin felt Effie's hesitation gauge her waning resolve, and she shot Draco a pleading look.

"She's right, Drake," she breathed. "We have to find another way."

"No," he said. "Not an option. Either McAngus and I distract Adrian, or he catches all three of us."

Leolin grit her teeth, wincing as another curse rickashayed off the column with a snarling hiss.

"We said no heroes," she pleaded.

"This isn't about heroics," Draco countered hotly. "We do this or we're done. And McAngus and I can handle ourselves."

He drew his handsome Leonardian wand, and Leolin grabbed his wrist.

"Drake, please."

He bared his teeth.

"I promised not to be your keeper," he said, though his voice gentled at her expression, softening from steel to heated silk. "But you can't be mine, either."

Leolin let out a breath before opening her mouth, but Draco silenced her with a look.

"I already gave you my word twice," he ground out, reading her final plea. "Don't insult me by insisting I repeat it a third time."

Leolin only nodded in response, and Draco grabbed her roughly by the neck and crushed her mouth to his, even as he drew a pouch of Peruvian darkness powder from his pocket.

"As soon as we're clear," he said, and she nodded again, relinquishing her grip on his collar and melting against the pillar just as he hurled the powder over the column and star-flecked darkness exploded around them.

He and Effie vaulted over the column as it poured over the column's tattered lip, and Leolin forced herself not to look back, tearing from the next pillar, and then the next, dodging curses and falling soldiers as she edged her way along the fray and out of Adrian's line of sight.

The minute she was clear, she tore for the corridor, her feet barely brushed the marble as she flew into it's entrance. She was tearing down the stairs before she could even question if she'd gone the right way, taking them two at a time and vaulting the final six, wincing as her knees slammed into the stone floor and barked in protest.

She grit her teeth as she straightened, taking several throbbing steps before stumbling into the wall. She let out a low snarl of pain as she set a magical brace around her right knee before continuing on, wand raised. She snaked through the maze of corridors thanking Merlin that it followed a logical path, and that it was, as Kelly had intimated, not heavily guarded. In fact, it wasn't until she rounded a corner to face a small wooden door that she encountered anyone at all, and when the guard turned at her intrusion, she found herself lowering her wand.

Astoria stood stalk still as she took Leolin in, wand arm trembling even as she raised it a fraction higher.

"Leolin," she croaked, eyes already lining with fretful tears. "How did you get down here?"

Leolin, still unable to find her voice, backed away a step, even as she raised her wand again.

"Who told you?" Astoria pressed, even as Leolin remained silent. "It was Kelly, wasn't it?"

Leolin made to protest, but Astoria shook her head, dislodging the tears until they slipped down her cheeks.

"I knew it. That's why he didn't want to—" she broke off, expression shuddering, and Leolin dared a step closer.

"What are you talking about?" she breathed, forcing her expression into genuine, if not somewhat manic, confusion.

"Don't lie to me," Astoria all but begged. "He's one of the only people who knew where I'd be. And I know he must have told you what happened."

Leolin skirted the accusation, pressing her luck by whispering, "told me what happened?"

At this, Astoria let out a sob, and Leolin could hear the pain, the humiliation, in it.

"Adrian was furious at Teddy," Astoria said, wand drooping. "That he couldn't find your safehouse. Wanted punish him for it."

Leolin let her wand drop as well, taking another cautious step.

"Punish him how?"

Astora sobbed again.

"He made me—he made Kelly—"

Leolin forced down the roiling in her gut as she remembered Kelly's report, at the blank spot where Teddy's punishment should have gone, at his plea that she tell Cara he was sorry. She never even dreamed to ask what he'd wanted forgiveness for.

She knew, even as Astoria's lip trembled, that she ought to deny that she'd even seen Kelly, and insist she didn't know what Astoria was talking about. But any protestation she could think to make unraveled as she glanced into the other woman's face and saw the lovely, innocent sixteen-year-old she'd known.

"You don't have to do this anymore, Astoria," she breathed instead, daring a final step forward, until she was close enough to touch her. "I can help you. You and Teddy both."

"No you can't!" Astoria screamed, raising her wand again. "No one can! And I will fuck every Solarrii under Adrian's command if that's what it takes to to keep my children safe. Be _glad_ to do it."

"Astoria—"

However, the mention of her children seemed to harden Astoria's resolve, and she hurled a stinging jinx that had Leolin reeling back. She only barely managed to dodge the blow, or to shield the next one a second later.

Knowing she had mere seconds to stop Astoria from raising an alarm, she drew a second wand from her holster, conjuring a whip in one hand and casting a nasty hex with the other. Astoria dodged the whip's stinging bite, but its forked tongue forced her right into the path of the hex, and she crumpled like a rag doll as it rendered her unconscious. Leolin lunged forward as she melted to the floor, keeping her head from hitting stone.

"I'm sorry," she breathed, even as she conjured chains and wrapped them around Astoria's wrists and ankles before drawing her wand and whispering, " _obliviate_."

Tendrils of memory slithered from Astoria's chest, and Leolin watched as their encounter appeared in whirls of silvery mist before giving way to flashes of Astoria and Kelly, naked and entwined, the muscles in his smooth back contracting as he—

Leolin gave a sob through her clenched teeth as she forced them back down into Astoria's chest, knowing that Tate would comb through Astoria's memories when they found her. If he found the ones of Kelly missing...

She let the sob free as she poured false memories back in, of Xavier happening upon Astoria instead, of her wordlessly drawing her wand and defending whatever lay beyond that door before he steadily overpowering her. When the bluish tendrils had disappeared entirely, Leolin gave Astoria a final sympathetic look, whispering, "I'm sorry," even as she stepped over her unconscious form and blasted apart the wards on the door. She'd lost time she hadn't had in the first place; she couldn't waste any more.

" _Bombarda!"_ she cried, throwing up an arm to shield her eyes as the door splintered in a cascade of jagged strips. When the archway was clear, she vaulted the debris to kneel in front of the figure slumped in the lone chair at the room's centre.

She swore as she pressed two fingers to Cullen Braddock's neck, barely able to tell if he was breathing over the roaring in her own ears.

"Cullen?" she breathed, only just managing to bite back a sob of relief as his chest rose and his eyes fluttered open.

She repeated his name and he gave only a wet groan in response, blood dribbling from his slackened lips. His white shirt was soaked through with sweat and grime, as if he'd been dragged through the snow and worse.

"Who are you?" he finally croaked.

"My name is Leolin Lefevre. I'm—"

He gave a weak nod to indicate he knew who was was, head still weaving like a serpent's. When his gaze finally managed to fix on her, his pupils were blown wide, indicating a hard blow to the head. Gingerly, she reached up to touch his face, and when he didn't shy away, she brushed some of the thick hair off his brow. His head lulled slightly at the gesture, and she let her hand drift down his cheek to his neck, helping him raise his head.

"What happened?" she prompted in a soft voice, brushing her nails against the skin behind his ear in another soothing gesture. This time he didn't react, as if too far gone to register the touch.

"Cullen," she said again. "What did they do to you?"

Cullen didn't answer, just gestured to his chest. She glanced down at it again, taking in the dark stain and realising it wasn't just dirt. She touched it was to find that it wasn't blood either, but something else entirely. She fought to urge to jerk back as her fingers brushed the substance. When she drew them away, they were clean, but whatever it was still lingered, seeming to have seeped beneath her skin, skittering up her bones and seeking to settle in her chest.

"What—" she began, but he shook his head.

"My magic," he croaked, the continued battle for consciousness seeming to drain the remaining colour, however ashen, from his face. By the time he spoke again, he was bone white. "It's gone. They— _he_ —ripped it out."

The hair on the back of her neck stood up as she watched, or felt, shreds of power continue to leak from the ragged stalk in Cullen's chest, hacked down to the root. The strain grew as she did, shimmering oily black against the white of his shirt.

She hated herself for what she said next. Not a reassurance or expression of empathy, but a choked. "Who? The Emperor?"

A weak nod.

"And Thivierge. The Emperor gave it to her and disappeared when—"

He gave a vague gesture to her, and she nodded. When word of of her attack on the Hall of Justice broke. She fought down a swell of panic at thinking of Felix or any of the other being forced to face Lucius, even as a competing wave of relief broke at realising he'd possibly left the Embassy in Adrian's hands. Still, it didn't leave her much time. As soon as he realised Draco wasn't there, he'd be back.

Leolin glanced back over her shoulder towards the stairs before hey eyes flicked back to Cullen and her vision blurred.

"I have to go," she choked, tears tangling in her lashes before struggling free and slipping down her checks. "But I swear, I _will_ come back for you."

Cullen shook his head, coughing more scarlet onto his wan lips.

"Please," he said instead. "I'll never make it that long."

Now it was her turn to shake her head, sending two more tears in a race down her cheeks.

"Leolin," he croaked, dimmed eyes beseeching. "Please."

She nearly gagged on the sob as it clawed up her throat, but she forced herself not to flee, but to rise off her knees, to bring her other hand to cup his cheek as she pressed her lips to his sweat-sheened brow before letting it rest against her own. Wordlessly she slipped her wand from the holster at her thigh, pressing it to his temple.

"I'm sorry," she breathed, letting her eyes slipped closed as she murmured, " _Avada Kadavra."_

An unbidden sob burst from her throat as his head slumped to her shoulder. Fighting down a cresting, crushing cold, she ran her fingers through the thick hair at his nape, her tears falling onto his pallid cheeks.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."

Half submerged in her guilt and grief, time slipped by as Cullen's weight settled against her, adding to the throbbing ache in her knees and pressing on her chest until it threatening to crush her heart to dust.

However, before she teeter wholly into her despair, she heard a soft voice—her mother's—calling her name.

 _Leolin. Leolin, get up. Leolin, you have to go._

Leolin's head snapped up as she turned to face Ariadne, only to find she was still alone. The voice was coming from within, her own psyche feeding her the person whose gentle urging she needed to curb the panic.

Gently, reverently, she unbound Cullen's hands and eased him to the floor. She touched his cheek a final time before conjuring a magical shroud to settle over him, his body beginning to disperse in a faint glow of light. She watched for a moment before vaulting to her feet, sending her patronus swooping ahead of her as she tore across the stone.

She didn't dare slow her pace as she ran, even when her leg groaned in protest and the seams of her lungs threatened to burst. She took the stairs three at a time as she ascended, letting out a shriek as strong hands dragged her into the upstairs corridor as she rounded the final bend.

"I got your message," Xavier said by way of greeting, pressing her shoulders against the stone as she struggled to catch her breath. "¿Qué está pasando, mija?"

"The emperor," she panted. "Have you seen him?"

He shook his head, brows furrowed. She tried not to fret at the laceration on his cheek, or a burn mark in his protective jacket.

"And the others?" she said. "My mum and Drake?"

"Fighting," he said. "But unharmed. What's going on?"

"I need to get upstairs. I think that's where Torrii Thivierge is keeping the lock on the wards."

"Orders?" he said, seeming to sense they didn't have time for any further explanation.

"I need a distraction," she said. "As big as you can make it."

He nodded, and she grabbed his arm.

"When I break the wards, we won't have time to meet back up, so the second you feel them fall, you grab the others and go. Draco especially."

He nodded his understanding, and she bit her lip.

"I don't fear death," he said, reading the look in her eyes. "If this is my end, I meet it without regrets."

She made to protest, to give the order he stand down instead, but the uncompromising will in his eyes had her falling silent.

"This is not the time for second guessing," he told her. "But if anything should happen, please tell my Rina—"

Leolin throat tightened, but she nodded and clenched his jaw.

"Wait for my signal, then," he said. "Two minutes."

She nodded again, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead before tearing off, back into the fray. She followed, creeping up the arching staircase and crouching down as Xavier, still unnoticed for the writhing crowd, readied a terrible magic. Her breath caught as she watched Draco and Adrian lock eyes across the room and tear for each other. Draco got in the first blow, a whip to Adrian's chest that had him reeling back before diving under another seething swipe and knocking Draco off his feet. Her heart hammered against her ribcage, threatening to break free as they scrabbled, and when Adrian managed to get the whip around Draco's neck and began to squeeze, she found herself rising to her feet to help him.

However, before she could take a single step, a sonic boom echoed through the room, the floor roiling like the sea stirred by a great serpentine beast, Xavier's magic snaking through the marble floor as if it were no more than water and sending everyone flying.

Leolin could spare only on last look back at Draco, who had indeed managed to get free of Adrian's hold, before she began tearing up the stairs. She hadn't made it two steps before the world seemed to slow, the room going momentarily dark as a great storm grew and shattered around them. Knowing what it that darkness heralded, knowing how little time she had to break the ward, she fought against the viscous, choking air. She was at the upper landing, a mere twenty feet from the door of Saint-Croix's office, when lightning flashed and the darkness began to take a glowing corporeal form. She was to the gilt handle when Lucius Malfoy's inhuman melody filled the space, splashing a chill down her spine.

She drew her wand and screamed the unlocking charm over Lucius's chilling peels of laughter, as lovely and as terrible as anything she'd even heard, scrambling to dive inside as the lock clicked.

But as she closed a fist around the handle, her fingers suddenly lost their purchase, an invisible force dragging her back with no more difficulty than a puppeteer tugging at his marionette's springs . She only had time to scream once as her feet left the carpet and she hurled backwards off the balcony.

* * *

It was an effort not to watch Leolin as she tore off to find Braddock, even though Draco could see only the vaguest shapes through the darkness powder as the roiled around them.

"Arc right!" he called to MacAngus, tugging her by the collar out of Adrian's sightline before nearly throwing her towards the Easternmost body of the ballroom. "Spread the word to the Americans about what's going on! We need to be ready to move."

"What about you?" she asked, watching him draw his hood up again to hide his face and gleaming blonde hair.

He glanced up as the darkness dispersed to find Adrian distracted, and every instinct had him heading for the basement.

"Don't," she said, grabbing his arm. "If anyone spots you, you could end up springing a trap on her."

He gave her a blazing look, glancing up at Adrian again and judging his chances of making it back across the expanse of ballroom that now separated him from Leolin.

"You're needed here," MacAngus urged, shaking the arm she still held. "It's what she'd want from you."

He bit back the tempting retort that she had no idea what Leolin wanted, but when he spotted Fenrir Greyback ripping into the neck of a young woman who writhed bonelessly against his vice-like jaws, Draco nodded his tacit acceptance and tore off towards them instead, leaving MacAngus to find her own way through the meleé.

Draco's stomach churned as he saw the girl growing sluggish under Greyback's fangs, and he blasted the hulking half beast off her with a jerk of his wand. He watched in satisfaction as his body slammed into the mirrored wall at the end of the ballroom before falling still, his neck set at an incorrect angle. However, his satisfaction faded as he forced his way to the young girl's side, kneeling to check her pulse. She had none. He swore under his breath, having only enough time to close her unseeing eyes for leaping up and unleashing torrent of beautiful, terrible dark magic. Around him enemy soldiers fell, any concern of keeping out from under Adrian's attention as he watch the Solarrii crumple to the ground.

Around him, American soldiers began to take up a rallying cry, joining his savage meleé, beating back the tide even as shouts rose and more Solarrii began appearing in swirling cracks. Draco, now covered him blood and shreds of dark magic, continuing cutting a path through the crowd, even as his throat ached from screaming curse after curse. If there was a god, he knew he'd knew he'd be paying for this night for eternity.

"Malfoy!"

He whirled to see Crofton Teller fighting his way through the crowd, armed only with a hunting knife. Still, he wielded it with surprising deftness, slashing the throat of a middle-aged Solarrii as he forced his way to Draco.

"Where is she?"

"Taking down the ward!" Draco cried, broken voice barely audible over the screams. "Where is the General?"

They both winced as two cursed once again collided over headphones, echoing with the deafening boom.

"Dead," Teller said, mouth set.

"Then you need to hold the line! Leolin needs time if she's going to get us out."

Teller nodded, needing no further encouragement as he sprinted back into the fight. Draco watched him go, swaying slightly on his feet as his adrenaline momentarily subsided and his weariness swept in. His eyes fanned over the carnage, over the bodies of Americans strewn across the floor, soldiers and diplomats alike. As his eyes fell on a young man with dark skin, he imagined a similar scene unfolding at the Palace of justice, fear twisting his gut. If things there were anything half so bloody, it could be Blaise lying lifeless on his back, or Chaisson or Potter. He clamped down on the throat, knowing it was useless, especially when he spotted a familiar figure at the far end of the ballroom.

Beau Tanner was battling Tate Rawle fifteen yards off, and Draco watched Tate throw out a hand and blindly grab a solid fistful of nothing, dragging a still cloaked Gia back. Draco didn't dare call out to Gia, who Tate had managed to divest of her cloak, even as more Sollarri recognised her and rushed in to help keep her restrained.

Beau had been knocked halfway unconscious, but even with a Faulkner brother at each shoulder holding him back, he roared and fought to get back to Gia. Draco, who'd gotten jammed up in a throng of dueling figures, watched Tate grab Gia's chin to study her face, and the appreciative, proprietary grin he gave her had Draco's blood roaring. However, as Tate stepped closer to further admire her, she spit in his face before managing to wrench her arm free. Tate hadn't expected the blow, and he stumbled back, right into a kick from Beau.

But now Draco had reached them, tearing through the Faulkners and forcing Tate's attention from Gia to himself.

"Go, Giacomina!" he called to Gia as Beau managed to incapacitate the Faulkners and force his way back to Gia. "You have your orders."

Beau was dragging her away even as she made to protest, and Draco turned back to Tate.

"Didn't realise Zabini had a sister," he goaded, dark eyes flashing as he raised his ash wand. "You two have been holding out on me, Malfoy."

"Stay away from her," Draco warned, breaking Tate's _protego_ and hurling a nasty hex at him.

Tate stumbled only briefly before hurling a hex of his own that went slightly wide.

"Why's that?" Tate said, subtly maneuvering to free his comm and alert Adrian Draco had indeed arrived. "Have you already staked your claim?"

Draco bared his pearly teeth in a protective gesture.

"Because if you touch her," he said, sending an electric bolt to Tate's waist to keep him from his comm. "She'll rip out your throat."

"Feisty," Tate said dispassionately, fighting to hide his wince at Draco's stinging strike. "I like that in a woman. Speaking of feisty little bitches, where's yours?"

"At the Hall of Justice," Draco said without hesitation. "Where you lot would be, if you had any sense."

"It's being handled," Tate said, hissing as Draco once again thwarted his attempt to free his comm. "And you're a shite liar. You two are a matching pair. If you're here, so is she."

Draco's eyes flashed, and Tate only smiled.

"Adrian will be so pleased," he observed. "He hasn't had a proper fuck in ages."

Draco exploded at this, affording Tate the opportunity he needed to free his comm and call, "Malfoy's here, and so is Lefevre!"

However, the moment cost him, and Draco knocked him unconscious in a stroke, watching with satisfaction as he crumpled to the ground. Draco advanced, fully intending to deliver a killing blow, when he felt a presence appear not ten yards off. He turned to snarl at Adrian, whose expression bore the same enmity.

"I knew you'd come," Adrian growled quietly, drawing his wand and Draco raised his. "Thank you for bringing Leolin to me."

Draco grit his teeth, not willing to rise to the bait as he sized Adrian up for weaknesses. He knew better than to strike the first blow, so he only countered Adrian's exploratory step to Draco's right with one to his left.

"I've actually come to bring you to her," Draco said. Adrian was just as easy to goad into rash action as Draco was, Draco just had to be patient and wait for the proper moment. "I wanted to kill you myself, but I can't deny that at this point she'd more that earned the honor herself."

Adrian's lambent eyes glittered at the challenge.

"She's welcome to try," he said, twirling his wand in an unconscious tell he was preparing to strike. "It will only make it that much easier to get her on her back."

He popped the 'k' in a final attempt to bait Draco, and when it failed, he raised his wand and fired. His blow went wide, and Draco conjured a steel-tipped whip and snapped his wrist down, the sharpened edge piercing the protective armor Adrian wore. Quick as an asp, Draco recalled the whip, aiming for Adrian's ankle to yank him on his avoided it's stinging embrace by lunging forward, reaching for the whip in one hand as he used the other to push Draco off his feet.

Draco's teeth sang as his skull hit the marble, and Adrian took full advantage of Draco's disorientation and leapt up, wrapping the leather coil around Draco's neck and beginning to squeeze. Draco, knowing better than to pry at the stricture at his neck, scrabbled for a dagger, or his wand, which lay several feet away.

However, the blow had dazed him, as did the lack of oxygen, and he felt his fingers going slightly limp and Adrian increased the pressure.

"Perhaps I'll make you watch," he sneered, teeth gritted against the effort of choking off the flexing muscles in Draco's neck. "Make you stand there and watch while I fuck that little bitch in two."

Draco let out a strangled snarl, forcing himself to focus on the dagger as Adrian lost a fraction of concentration to his gloating.

"Troy says she tastes amazing," he continued, grinning like a cheshire cat. "How would you like to see me to lick her until she _begs_ —"

Draco bucked up as the floor beneath him ruptured , the marble hissing like a wave split by a ship as Adrian was whipped off of him. He tore the whip from his neck and gave a jagged cough, grabbing his wand and raising it. He would apologise to Leolin later, he told himself as he raised his wand where Adrian was just getting to his feet. This kill was his.

" _Avada. Kadavra_ ," he panted through gritted teeth. But just as the green jet burst from the tip of his wand, just as he saw it's ghastly reflection in Adrian's eyes, coalescing with the fear there, another boom sounded, and a literal tempest exploded overhead, the force of it's gale winds blowing the curse off course.

Draco swore as he threw up and arm to shield from a flash of blinding light, the power of which seemed to suck at the darkness, drawing it inward towards the figure who emerged. Draco had no time to assess where Adrian was as his father's corporal form settled and his alien laughter filled the hall. Before Draco could think to scramble back and away, he watched his father, who'd seemingly yet to see him, reach an arm back as if to grab something over his shoulder.

All Draco heard was Leolin scream as her back collided with the balcony's railing and she was thrown through the air. His heart leapt to the back of his tongue as she hurdled towards the broken stone floor, but with a gesture from Lucius she slowed, hitting a patch of unbroken marble and going sprawling. Instinctively Draco lunged for her even from thirty feet off, but he was grabbed from behind even as Lucius advanced, his full attention on Leolin.

Draco struggled against his assailant as they bent his index finger back, jamming a ring onto it even as they dragged him into shadow, and hand over his mouth to keep him silent. Draco watched in horror as his own body faded into nothing.

"Say nothing," Xavier Borgia hissed in his ear, even as Adrian advanced, pulling Leolin's back flush against his chest so she forced to face Lucius.

"Get off of me," Draco croaked, but Xavier only wrenched his arm back at an angle no more than fifteen degrees from dislocating his shoulder.

"You promised her you would not interfere," Xavier snarled quietly. "You will not break that promise."

Draco made to protest, to damn his promise and point out that with the wards still up they were all going to end up prisoners anyway, but Xavier twisted his arm again, the pain of it temporarily sending his focus to pieces. However, it only took seeing Adrian string a proprietary hand around Leolin's neck, at watching his press a cheek to her hair and breathe in her scent, to get him struggling again. In answer, Xavier pressed him against the nearest column, binding his hands and silencing him.

"Promise to stay here and I will do what I can," he breathed, and he was gone, leaving Draco to struggle helplessly against his bonds as Lucius approached Leolin, his smile beautiful and terrible. The crowd around them grew silent as he studied her face, drinking in the stubborn set of her mouth and the fear in her eyes.

"I knew you'd come," he purred, his glimmering fingers brushing her cheek.

Draco strained enough that he really did think his shoulders might pop from their sockets. However, Xavier's spell held firm, and he couldn't fight free.

"You never can seem to resist playing the hero," Lucius continued as Leolin fought to free herself from her own hold. "I warned you long ago that it would one day cost you."

He considered her, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear.

"The only question now is what price I extract from you."

His fingers drifted down to her sternum, and Leolin's chest jerked as he flexed them, a tendril of soft night-dark power rending through his shirt weaving through his fingers.

"I hadn't planned on taking your magic just yet," he said, tugging another ribbon of power and making her scream through clenched teeth. "But now that it's been laid so bare I'm not sure I can resist." He paused. "Unless, of course, Draco would like to bargain on your behalf."

Lucius retracted his fingers and Leolin sagged a little as Lucius glittering eyes, so bright there were nearly translucent, scanned the crowd. Draco felt a sob tear through his gritted teeth as Lucius continued to look. Draco only prayed the invisibility would wear off before Lucius could enact his punishment. Damn the consequences; if Draco could only reveal himself, he'd pay any price to take Leolin's place.

However, after another beat Lucius gave a small shrug, and Draco screamed soundlessly as The Emperor's gaze flicked back to Leolin.

"Very well," he said. "On your knees, then, Leolin, where you belong."

Draco let out another useless bellow as Adrian forced her down, a tear slipping down Leolin's grimy cheek as her eyes fell closed.

"Brace yourself, my darling," Lucius purred. "This is going to hurt."

Draco thrashed as his father raised a hand, preparing to shred Leolin's— _his_ Leolin's—magic, that wild, untamed power he cherished more than his own. His eyes blurred with tears as Lucius twisted his fingers and Leolin screamed.

"No!"

Ariadne was suddenly in the clearing Lucius's arrival had created, bounding in front of Leolin and splaying her arms.

"No," she repeated, voice trembling as Lucius drank her in as if she were expensive wine. "No, please. Take mine instead."

"Mum—" Leolin croaked, but Ariadne shook her head, not daring to look over her shoulder.

"Quiet, Leolin," she said, arms still outstretched as Lucius seemed to consider her. "Please Lucius," she pressed. "Why take the daughter when it's the mother you've always wanted?"

At this Lucius gave a delighted smile, the gesture one of terrible, inhuman beauty.

"An intriguing offer," he mused. "One I find myself tempted to accept."

"Then take it," Ariadne said, the waiver in her voice the only betrayal of her fear.

Lucius gave a laugh, its timbre the harmony of angels in song.

"You bargain for nothing, Ari. It doesn't matter whose magic I take. Either way, the both of you will be coming back to my palace. And Draco as well. No use pretending he isn't here somewhere."

Draco struggled at his own mention, heaving to get to Ariadne a give himself in her place, his promise to Leolin long lost to his terror and rage.

"Please," Ariadne said, and her voice finally broke of the word, splintered by the sob that had forced its way onto her tongue. "Just take mine instead."

Lucius studied her for a final moment before smiling, his teeth illuminated by his unearthly glow and gleaming bright as gems.

"Very well, then," he conceded. "Consider it a favour for an...old friend." At this he advanced, grabbing Ariadne's chin and leaning in close enough that the brightness of his skin making her pupils contract. "But I expect, Ariadne, that you will make it up to me. I trust you know my price."

Draco grit his teeth to force down another scream as he watched Ariadne blink away the pain and fear that flashed across the lovely face so like her daughter's. Draco could see the innocent sixteen-year-old his father had broken all those years ago, and he began struggling anew.

"Agreed."

"No!" Leolin cried, thrashing against Adrian as Lucius smiled, brushing a tear from her mother's cheek.

"Get her up," Lucius said to Adrian over Leolin's protest, already beginning to flex his fingers in anticipation. "Make sure she watches."

" _Mum!"_ Leolin sobbed as she was dragged back and Ariadne took her place.

"Be brave, cariad," she managed, pressing a hasty kiss to Leolin's cheek before she was forced to her knees. " _Fod yn dddeur."_

Draco didn't know much Welsh, but that he did know. _Be brave_ , she'd told Leolin.

Knowing he had mere seconds to act, Draco forced every ounce of his own magic into his throat, willing it to shatter the silencing spell. He felt the charm bow under the pressure, and he drew his magic back and slammed it into the barrier again as his father raised his arm. He felt the charm snap as Lucius's hand descended, and Draco had only a second to roar his protest before Lucius drove a hand into Ariadne's chest and the world around them exploded.


	9. Chapter 9: Nothing on My Tongue But

A/N: Look, I know it's been an age, I'm sorry. Writing is hard, and so are mental health issues. But I am back now with renewed confidence in myself and this story. I hope you enjoy after what I know has been an unbearable wait (on a cliffie, no less). As always, reviews are appreciated. Also, in other news, I am writing an original novel! Details (though light, obviously) to follow. Love you all so, so, **so** much. xx TSA

* * *

 **Chapter 9: Nothing on My Tongue but Hallelujah**

 _"...Even though it all went wrong I'll stand before the Lord of Song with nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah..."_

* * *

 ** _Boom._**

Lucius and Ariadne's magic collided with a bone-crushing clap, and Leolin was torn from Adrian's grip and thrown backwards. Her head hit the ground a second later, and her vision went white.

She could neither see or hear Lucius, but she could _feel_ his rage singing in her skull, and the pressure of it was so great she thought she might go mad. She grit her teeth and screamed as its potency increased, and she felt her sanity fracturing into a savage kaleidoscope of thought and memory. She clung bitterly to lucidity as his displeasure crescendoed, but she found she knew nothing in that moment but his fury as it threatened to tear her in two.

Then all at once, it stopped.

Her mind continued to whirl, and only the slow, cold echo of her heartbeat told her she was not dead. Panic crested as her facultes slouched back together, struggling to remind her who and where she was .Still dazed, Leolin's eyes dragged open, a tear slipping from the corner and down her cheek as she found she was able to turn her head.

Not paralyzed then, she realised numbly. She blinked several more times, feeling beginning to return to her fingers and toes, which twitched compulsively.

The Embassy. She was at the American Embassy, and Lucius was...

Her pulse quickened, and she fought through the haze colours and shapes and the shrill buzzing in her ears.

Draco.

Ariadne.

She had to—

Leolin turned her head the other way and felt her heart stutter and start in her chest. There, lying across the ballroom, was Ariadne, and as Leolin's gaze swam back to focus, they locked eyes.

Alive. Ariadne was _alive,_ though she didn't seem to be moving.

Leolin grit out a cry as she rolled onto her stomach. She had to get to her.

The world was coming back into focus now, and she fought down a wave of nausea at the heaving, frothing chaos around her. The ballroom continued to reel as she fought to get her bearings, and she felt as if she were on a drunken carousel with no means to get off.

"Mum," she felt her croak. " _Mum_!"

She pitched to her feet, weaving like a serpent before finding her balance and pitching upright. Some vague part of Leolin reminded her that Adrian was probably still there, but she didn't slow or bother to look for him as she picked her way through the carnage, pausing only to cover her head at the intermittent shower of sparks raining down from above. She could still see Ariadne laying twenty yards off. She tried not to think about what it meant that Ariadne still hadn't moved as she got closer and closer. Her back could be broken, or her spine damaged, or—

The buzzing in Leolin's damaged ears grew to a dull roar as she nearly reached Ariadne's side, the blood throbbing in them hard enough to make her dizzy again. A shove from behind had her falling to hands and knees, and she crawled the last few feet, seeing now what she hadn't been able to at a distance; though Ariadne's eyes indeed remained open, no light shone in them.

" _Mum,"_ Leolin mouthed, gripping Ariadne's shoulder.

She didn't stir.

" _Mum!"_

Leolin grabbed her wrist, trying to quiet the throb in her skull to hear for a heartbeat.

She found only silence.

Rocking back on her heels, Leolin felt a primal tether in her chest snap from its mooring. She collapsed forward, omitting a silent scream as she cradled Ariadne's head in her lap and began to sob.

* * *

Draco's hands had still been bound when Lucius had touched Ariadne, and the succeeding blast threw his head back into the marble pillar. His skull and teeth sang at the impact, and a moment later his world went back. When he came to, he had no sense of how much time had passed, preoccupied instead with the roaring in both ears. He looked around in disoriented panic, trying to take in the magnitude of the hell breaking loose all around him.

The collision of Lucius's power and whatever shield Ari produced had torn the wards guarding both the manor and the city wide open, and Draco watched dazedly as people began disappearing at will, skirmishes continuing to break out as Solarrii soldiers lunged for prisoners. He shook his head, feeling like top who no longer has the energy to keep spinning. He shook his head again, fighting down a swelling urge to vomit. None of it mattered, he reminded himself.

Leolin. He had to find Leolin.

Slowly, painfully, he staggered up, weaving on unsteady feet and leaning on the now-broken pillar, eyes furiously scanning the crowd. He couldn't see her through the carnage, and he attempted another step.

This time he pitched forward, and he would have eaten marble were it not for the hand at his elbow. He turned, still bathed in buzzing silence, to find Felix at his side looking grave. His mouth was moving in rapid agitation, but Draco only shook his head.

"Leolin," he felt the word form on his lips, even though he couldn't hear himself say it. " _Find Leolin."_

Beside him Felix continued to speak, and Draco drunkenly shook his head again, gesturing to his ear. Felix drew his wand and flicked it, and suddenly the cacophony of chaos crashed into Draco, making him wince.

"Leolin!" he shouted, squeezing his eyes shut and fighting to master himself. "We need to find Leolin and Ariadne."

Felix's eyes—keen as his vulpine namesake—raked the ballroom for a few seconds before he froze, body going rigid. Draco followed his gaze and felt his knees nearly give way.

There lay Leolin in a crumpled heap, a limp figure with dark hair the same colour as her own cradled in her arms. Draco could tell from this distance, even without Leolin, that Ari was dead.

He swayed, and Felix's grip tightened on his elbow as he choked out a noise.

He had to go to her. He had to—

Before Draco could make a move, his felt a cold prickle at the edge of his vision, and his gaze flicked up to see Adrian labouring to his feet twenty-odd yards off. Draco watched his lambent eyes scan the butchery before finding Leolin—sobbing and unaware—across the ballroom.

Draco turned to Felix, grabbing his arm.

"Get them out! Chaisson, you have to get them out _now!_ "

"Come with us!" Felix cried over the screams. "This whole place is going to cave in!"

Indeed, plaster and glass were raining down as the building groaned and shivered. The more the apparations tore open the ward, the more the foundation quaked. Felix was right; the Embassy was mere minutes from total collapse.

" _Draco!"_

Draco shook his head, watching over Felix's shoulder as Adrian continued to fight a path to Leolin.

"Get her out!" Draco repeated, eyes pleading now. "Please Chaisson, now!"

Felix growled but relented, sprinting nimbly to Leolin's side and folding down beside her. She snarled the violation as he reached to take hold of her, Ariadne's body still clutched in her arms. However, after a second they disappeared, and Draco felt a stricture in his chest eased. With Leolin gone, he turned his attention back to Adrian only to find the latter staring back, teeth bared.

Draco broke the contact only long enough to spot a katana like Leolin's lying at his feet. It fell into his outstretched left palm with a flick of his boot, and he extended it with a satisfying snap even as he drew his wand with his right hand. He looked up again to see hatred and fear—real fear—bloom in Adrian's eyes.

"You are dead," he called hoarsely across the expanse between them. "I am going to kill you."

The ballroom had nearly emptied by then, the relative silence buzzing louder than the chaos had. Adrian bared his pearly teeth again, stark white against his dust-laden skin.

"You'll have to catch me first," he said, backing into the nearest shadow. "Tell Leolin I'll see her soon."

In a flash he'd drawn his wand, sending a curse into the ceiling just as Draco advanced.

Draco cried out and covered his head as the stained glass window above shattered, raining down jagged shards that pommeled the shattered marble floor in a lethal thunderstorm.

When he looked up again, Adrian had gone. He was alone.

The katana clattered from Draco's boneless grip as he collapsed to his knees. The once-lovely ballroom lay in utter ruin, dozens of bodies still scattered throughout. Remnants of his father's foul magic still lingered in the air, turning their blood black beneath them.

The last bastion of the city, destroyed. Draco squeezed his eyes shut against the horror of what this battle had cost them, trying to find some semblance of calm. He shouldn't linger. Adrian could return with more Solarrii, or worse, his father. Still, he wasn't sure he was ready to go back to the abbey, either, knowing what awaited him there.

Finally he took a shuddering breath, closing his eyes against the savage graveyard of the Embassy before disappearing in a cold pop.

He was barely able to keep his feet as he landed in the courtyard, where a smattering of figures stood assembled. Draco's eyes fell on Blaise first, and the relief slammed into him a moment before Blaise did. They didn't often physically express affection for one another, but Draco didn't resist as Blaise wrapped a hand around the back of Draco's neck, allowing him to bury his face in Blaise's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, mate," Blaise said, thumping Draco on the back.

Draco clenched his jaw, fighting not to cry. He was not so insecure a man that he couldn't admit how much he wanted to give into Blaise's comfort and sob like a child, but he knew couldn't afford to be weak tonight.

Leolin needed him to be strong, and for her he could be. Had to be. For her, he assured himself, he could be anything.

He pulled away, bracing Blaise's shoulder.

"Where is she?" he said hoarsely.

"Upstairs. Gin and Chaisson are with her."

Draco nodded tightly.

"And Ari?"

Blaise's face remained stolid, though his eyes stormed.

"Leolin refuses to leave her side."

Again, Draco just nodded, cuffing Blaise's shoulder before striding towards the stairs without a backwards glance to the others. He took the stairs two at a time, eyes glued to the stone as he forged upward.

"Draco."

He slowed without turning, and Langdon Blackburn caught up to him easily, grabbing Draco by the elbow.

"A word?"

Draco clenched his jaw.

"Can it wait?" he said, fighting not to jerk out of Langdon's firm grip. "I need to—"

"I'm afraid not," Langdon said, handsome face stern. "This is urgent."

Draco tensed but didn't object.

"You need to get Leolin away from her mother's body. There is no telling what kind of dark magic is still clinging to Ariadne from the collision, but whatever reaction it produced, it's likely toxic. Leolin could get seriously ill if she's exposed to it for too long."

Draco nodded, trying to force down a mounting hysteria.

"Thank you."

Langdon gave a short, sympathetic nod before slackening his grip so Draco could continue his ascent.

His composure was in tatters by now, and a new wave of adrenaline surged at the idea that Leolin might still be in danger. He could feel his breaths growing more shallow, so much so that his cheeks and lips began to buzz from a lack of oxygen.

Panic attack, he realised dully. He was having a panic attack.

Hand pressed to his chest, he stumbled sideways into a wall, drawing his wand and producing a bubble charm to get himself breathing his own air. The effect was nearly instantaneous, and he forced himself to take several steadying breaths before continuing up the final flight of stairs and rounding the corner.

Ginny and Felix sat on the floor outside Ariadne's closed bedroom door, head to head and knee to knee. At his arrival they both scrambled up.

"How is she?" Draco said in a whisper.

Ginny and Felix exchanged a look before she shook her head.

"She hasn't said a word yet," Ginny said. "But Drake, Langdon Blackburn told us tha—"

"I know," Draco interrupted, unable to bear hearing it again.

"We'll wait for you out here," Felix said in a solemn tone.

Draco nodded, giving the other man's shoulder a grateful squeeze as he stepped aside. Readying himself, Draco unlocked the door and slipped inside, closing and re-locking it behind him.

At seeing Leolin curled against Ari's still form on the bed, Draco couldn't breathe. His heart was a collapsing star in his chest, a black hole whose pull threatened to tear his soul from its mooring. For a terrifying second he thought Leolin was unconscious, but after a second she stirred slightly, and his pulse began beating again. He approached the bed and crouched down so they were eye level, extending his arms slightly.

"Leolin," he said, unsurprised to find himself barely able to speak. "Please, my love, you have to come away from there or you'll be sick."

There were tendrils of oil-dark magic swirling softly off Ariadne's body, and Leolin's skin had indeed taken on an ashen pallor, her lips withering to a corpse's grey.

"I don't care," she said, voice shattered and soft. "I hope it kills me."

"Leolin," he pleaded. "This isn't what she would have wanted from you."

At this Leolin went rigid, through her grip on Ari only tightened. Something in Draco strained to breaking and snapped, and he grit his teeth to fracture the sob that clawed up his throat.

"Please," he said, a tear slipping down his cheek. "Leolin, _please_."

He choked off another sob as she sat up, touching Ari's face with heart-rending gentleness. She then let out a sob of her own, and he surged forward, tugging her off the bed before collapsing to the carpet with her in his arms.

She buried her face into his neck and began to cry in earnest.

"I know," he said, tears falling into the dark satin of her hair. "I'm so sorry, darling."

Lying there with a broken Leolin in his arms, Draco found himself again in that dingy hotel room at the very heart of rock bottom, feeling smaller and more lost than he'd ever been. Ari had been so much more than a friend or even a mother to him; she had a been a beacon of hope in a sea of despair. With that light extinguished, he didn't know quite where he was anymore, even with Leolin clutched in his arms.

Draco's tightened his embrace as her sobs waned then began anew. Leolin— _his_ Leolin—who had always been her mother's most precious treasure. Of all the many unearned kindnesses and gifts Ariadne had bestowed on him over the years, Leolin had always been the most dear, and his heart ached with the weight of that debt, a debt which he would never now get the chance to repay.

"I'm sorry," he breathed into Leolin's hair, willing himself not to fall apart. Not yet. "Callie, I—I'm so sorry."

"It should have been me," she said in a hoarse, broken whisper, fingers tangled in his filthy jacket. "This is my fault."

"No," he said, pulling back and wiping her tears even as savagely forced down his own. "Never."

Leolin's lip quavered.

"I don't know how to live without her, Drake. I'm not sure I even can."

"I know," he breathed. "But we will find a way. Together."

"The funeral," she said abruptly. "It should be at the estate in LLangollen."

He nodded, and she continued. "I don't want anyone—" she broke off, fending off a fresh sob. "I can't bear a lavish ceremony. I want—I need it to just be us and James."

"Okay," he said, brushing a kiss to her temple.

"Okay," she whispered, lips trembling again.

Draco pulled her gently to his chest, unsure if he'd ever be able to bear letting go. He stroked her hair, whispering soothing reassurances in broken Welsh, and—when that failed him—in French.

He was unsure how long they stayed there, but it was only when she'd cried herself to sleep that he dared move, Leolin still tucked to his chest. Gently he stood and nudged open the door to find Felix and Ginny already on their feet.

"Don't let anyone into the room until Langdon Blackburn examines the body," he instructed in a whisper. "And find James. The funeral has to be tomorrow, and he'll likely want to stay with Ari until then."

Ginny nodded, brushing a hand down Leolin's hair before looking up into Draco's face, her hand bleeding to his cheek.

"Are you alright?" she murmured, and his throat was so tight it was a wonder he could breathe at all.

"No," he admitted. "But Leolin needs me to be strong. I have to keep it together until after the funeral."

"We're here for you," Felix said. "Ne perds pas espoir, mon frère."

Draco nodded his acceptance, more grateful for Felix than he could have ever imagined being.

"Thank you," he breathed. "Both of you."

* * *

Leolin stood in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection. She searched and searched her face, but she found that it was her mother who stared back. The same storm-ridden eyes, the same full lips and dark hair. People had always told her they looked alike, but Leolin had never quite seen how much until now. Her mother's beauty had always seemed so idyllically unattainable to Leolin, her face imbued with a wisdom and kindness Leolin was so sure she'd never achieve.

Ariadne's last words still echoed in Leolin's ear, as if she was standing behind Leolin like she so often had.

Bod yn ddewr, fy mhlentyn. _B_ _e brave, my daughter._

Leolin shook her head at her reflection.

"I don't know how," she pleaded softly. "Tell me what to do."

She waited for a response, or to feel Ariadne reassuring hand on her shoulder, but in the end she found only silence. A crushing, deafening silence she'd never known. Even in her darkest hours, she'd always felt Ariadne's guiding hand at her back, urging her onward. Without that guidance, she wasn't sure she still knew who she was.

She reached out to touch the cool glass, half-expecting Ariadne's to step through it and into her waiting arms. _Come back to me,_ Leolin willed her. _Even as a shadow. Even as a dream._ Her vision blurred with tears, and when she blinked them away, Ariadne was gone, and it was her own reflection peering back.

She didn't turn at the sound of the door to the bedroom opening behind her, still beseeching her mother's spectre to reappear in the mirror. Draco said nothing as he came up behind her, silver eyes studying her expression in the reflection. He slid his warm hands around her waist and she let him, pressing her cheek to his jaw and breathing in his scent.

"It's almost time," he said after a minute, warm breath caressing her cheek. "You need to get dressed."

She didn't reply, but nor did she object when he loosened the tie on her silk dressing gown, pulling it from her shoulders until it pooled at her ankles. He then retreated to the bed behind her, carefully picking the black stockings off the bed and kneeling at her feet. Steadying herself with a hand on his shoulder, she lifted her right foot to allow him to roll the stocking up to her mid thigh and before securing it there with a murmured spell. He then repeated the gesture on the other foot before retrieving her dress and helping her step into so he could zip it up. Wordlessly, she extended the arms back to allow him to slide a heavy wool coat over her shoulders, unfocused gaze slipping to the mirror again and lingering, even as she deftly put out a hand for him to steady her as she stepped into black pumps.

When she was dressed he came to stand in front of her, obscuring the mirror with the broad expanse of his shoulders.

"I love you," he breathed, brushing a thumb across her cheek. " _Wastad."_

 _Always._

She surged forward to kiss him at the word, and his lips were soft and firm against hers.

"You are my safe harbour," she said, more a plea than a statement.

He nodded, brushing his lips to hers again.

"Wastad, cariad."

She nodded then, too, and he stepped back, handing her a pair of supple leather gloves from the pocket of his own coat before threading his fingers through hers and leading her from the room.

Outside the sky roiled with a coming storm, and Leolin pulled the tall collar of her coat up to her ears, feeling as if she could almost hear her mother's voice in the shushing wind. She was relieved to find a crowd had not gathered, only Felix, Blaise, and Ginny having come to see them off. She was even more grateful when no one spoke, offering her tender but unsmiling expressions instead.

"Where is James?" she said in greeting, voice slightly hoarse from sobbing and disuse.

It was Draco who answered, appearing at her side holding the sleek onyx urn.

"He left for Llangollen about an hour ago. He said he wanted—"

Leolin nodded and he broke off, gently extending the slender urn to Leolin. She took a shuddering breath, feeling dull, grief-soaked panic rising up. Draco didn't move to press her, and after a moment she extended a shaking hand to accept it. He didn't insult her by asking if she was ready to go. Instead, he extended a wordless hand for her to hold, which she took gratefully.

She glanced at the others as a threstral-drawn carriage landed in a gravel, the quadrant wickering softly.

"Thank you," she managed, and Felix nodded.

"We'll be here when you get back. Take your time, lapin."

To this she only nodded again, accepting Draco's hand into the carriage. Soundlessly he shut the door and slid in beside her, his left arm extending across the back of the bench seat in silent invitation. She said nothing as she curled into his warmth, her mother's ashes still clutched to her chest.

It was less than an hour's journey to Llangollen, and the Madoc Estate looked more dreary and embattled than ever against the grey November sky. Even her grandmother's lovely roses looked wan, as if they understood what they were bearing witness to today. James was not out front the greet them, but Leolin could tell from their exchanged glance that she and Draco both knew where he'd probably gone.

Taking hands again, they started down the stone pathway that arced the the right of the manor house, following it to the glassy lake that yawned off the back of the Estate. It had been a favorite spot of Ariadne's since she was a child.

James stood silhouetted in the gloom, back to them as he looked out over the lake. He stood still as death, and if had not be for the soft plume of condensation slithering from his lips, Leolin might have thought he wasn't even breathing. Letting go of Draco's hand, she went to her stepfather's side, looping her arm though his. He didn't move, and they stood for what felt like a lifetime, one that stretched on almost as long as the years they now faced alone.

Finally, he turned to her, eyes red-rimmed as they took her in. He drank her in as if he were dying of thirst, and Leolin could tell that he was seeing in her face the same thing she'd seen in the mirror that morning. Wordlessly she held up the urn to him, and his face crumpled, pale lips trembling as a strangled sound escaped them. He looked down as if he meant to take the proffered cylinder before shaking his head and taking a small step away.

"I—" he choked, shaking his head again. "My darling girl, I'm sorry, but I—I can't—"

He broke off, and Leolin nodded.

"I understand," she told him, and she meant it. If their places were reversed, if he stood offering her Draco's ashes— "Do you want me to wait for you?"

She could see the shame as it flickered across his face, as it settled over his shoulders like a leaden cloak, bowing his back as if he were a man forty years older. Handing the urn back to Draco, she gingerly placed her gloved hands on her stepfather's damp cheeks.

"I'll do it here," she told him, wiping a tear away as tried to escape down his cheek. "You can come see her when you're ready."

James stumbled over another sob even as he nodded.

"You are more like her than you will ever know," he told her softly, and Leolin felt the words fill her chest, buoying her ever-sinking heart.

"Thank you," she breathed, and he pressed forward to kiss her forehead before gently pulling away from her embrace and disappearing with a soft pop.

Leolin and Draco said nothing for several minutes after he'd gone, and Leolin let the silence wash over her, straining to hear her mother's voice on the wind again. Eventually she drew her wand from her coat pocket, running the soft yew through her fingers. After a minute of contemplation she turned to Draco, holding her wand out to him instead.

"Veux-tu lui donner une éternelle pleureuse?" she said softly, and he nodded, accepting her wand from her and flourishing it with a murmur.

The ground at their feet began to shimmer, then rise, the figure of a eternal mourner blossoming from the earth like a solemn flower, her head bent in supplication. She was exquisitely rendered, her veiled brow crowned with a corona of fresh white lilies. She knelt on a simple white marble pedestal, and inscribed on the base were the words, _"unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality."_

Leolin nodded her silent thanks accepting her wand back and then—after a minute—Ariadne's ashes. Draco extended a hand to help her as she knelt at the mourner's base, taking a breath whose evenness surprised her. She set down the urn with excruciating gentleness before removing the lid with the same care. Raising her wand, she coaxed the ashes from inside with a breeze charmed to flutter like a butterfly's wings. They both watched as the ashes rose, glittering, before catching the wind and blowing towards the lake.

Draco watched their journey for a moment before drawing his own wand. His falcon patronus appeared with a soft flick of his wrist, bearing the ashes farther out, across the Dee valley and into the Berwyn Mountains beyond. Leolin watched the dim, grey light reflecting off its wings before looking down at the pedestal again, where Ariadne's name had been etched under her epitaph. Removing a glove, Leolin ran her fingers over each letter.

"Even now my heart wants to follow where you've gone," She admitted into the soft, lulling silence, voice beginning to finally crack. "But I know I have to go on living, and that's the hardest part."

A single tear fell into the churned earth, and a Madoc rose bloomed from the spot where it fell, soon spawning others until they clustered around the mourner's base. At seeing it, Leolin felt her grief—her loss—hit her in an artic surge.

Her heart was a violin, the bow of her grief wringing a melody so finely edge from its strings that she felt herself being cut apart from the inside. She crumpled, clutching at the lapel of her coat as if to tear the instrument from her chest and silence its song.

Suddenly the whole ritual felt hollow and grotesque, and she had the urge to topple the mourner and tear the flowers to ribbons, as if she could bring Ariadne back to life simply by erasing all the evidence that proved she was gone.

But she couldn't, she realised. Not now, and not ever. Her mother was dead. She would _always_ be dead, and unless there was a life beyond this one, Leolin would never see her again.

She let out a pained snarl, teeth clenched as the injustice of that fact washed over her. Ariadne was gone, and Leolin was alone. Her tears began again in earnest at the thought, and wordlessly Draco sank down beside her, touching her back.

"You are not alone," he told her quietly, reading her sorrow. "Leolin, you are never alone."

At this a soft wind ruffled her hair, and feeling her mother's fingers in its chilled brush on her cheek, she collapsed against Draco and sobbed.

* * *

Draco stepped out of Leolin's bedroom the next evening to find James standing in the hallway, dark eyes haunted but full of alacrity. He seemed to have mastered his grief since his breakdown the previous morning, and his expression was so full of love and concern that it made Draco's throat ache.

"How is she?" James asked softly.

Draco shook his head, driving a hand through his hair.

"I don't know what to do, how to help her," he admitted. "And I've just had word Crofton Teller and his cronies have joined the order, and that he's called for a council-at-large meeting tomorrow."

"He wastes no time, I see," James said, and Draco grunted his assent. "You have to go in her place."

Draco shook his head again, glancing back at Leolin's closed door.

"I can't leave her here like this." Draco didn't want to have to tell James that she'd barely spoken since breaking down at Ari's grave, and that despite his pleading, she hadn't eaten , and had drank no more than a glass or two of water. "Besides," he reasoned, not sure if he was trying to convince James or himself. "Chaisson is her second. When she's gone, he's in charge."

"That may be so, but you're her heart. She wouldn't want anyone to speak for her but you."

Draco bowed his head, throat aching again, and James clasped his shoulder.

"I will look after her, I promise."

"And who will look after you?"

James gave a said, wisened smile.

"Ari will. Being here, in this place she loved, I can still feel her with me."

Draco took a breath to expel the unbearable tightness in his chest.

"Go," James urge in a gentle voice. "Leolin will be alright, you'll see. She just needs a bit of time. Go and buy it for her."

Draco nodded, allowing James to tug him into a tight embrace. They stood there for a moment without speaking before James pulled away, clapping Draco on the back and retreating down the hall to the stairs.

Draco took another breath and slipped back into Leolin's room. He went to her desk and wrote her a quick note before setting it on her side table and gingerly sitting on the bed next to where she lay, deep under the thrall of a dreamless draught. In sleep her face was serene, and she had a panda teddy from her childhood pressed to her chest. He smoothed a hand down the conker brown silk of her unbound hair then bent to kiss her.

"I love you," he breathed onto her delicately parted lips, kissing her again and rising.

If he didn't leave now, he knew he'd never find the strength to do it. Casting her a final tender glance, he left her room and descended the grand staircase, intending to bid James a final farewell before leaving. He found the older man was standing at the window, staring through it and watching the last shreds of a variegated sunset as it gilded Sian's rose garden, the same one James and Ariadne had been married in. Draco found he couldn't bring himself to shatter the moment, knowing that if he did, he'd be spoiling the memory as well. Instead, he indulged in a final glance up the stairs before he slipping from the estate and into the damp twilight.

Now that he didn't have Leolin with him, he simply apparated back to the abbey, relieved when he reached the courtyard and found he was alone. He took a back staircase up to his and Leolin's bedroom, having decided on taking a nap before scrounging up some dinner. Leolin had been up most of the night crying, and he hadn't wanted to fall asleep until she had. As a result, he'd gotten very little rest in the last two days, and weariness was tugging on his bones.

However, when he finally sank down on the bed he found something else tugging at him instead, and despite all the promises he'd made to himself, he felt his eyes begin to burn.

Ari was dead, and his father had killed her. Ari, who had been his safe harbour and his redemption, who had seen good in Draco when he was at his lowest. Ari, who'd shown him the path back to Leolin when he couldn't see it himself.

He bent his head and began to sob in a way he hadn't since that day she found him in the hotel room in Riga, his shoulders shaking with their violence. He wept for Leolin, who'd already endured the sufferings of ten lifetimes, and for James, who'd only had a few years with the love of his life before losing her. Most selfishly, Draco wept for himself, for the swelling grief in his chest, which rose with every one of his pointless attempts to push it down.

He sobbed until his throat ached and his eyes stung, but somehow he couldn't find a way to stop. He was so lost to it that he didn't hear the door open, and it was only when Ginny sat down beside him and laid her head on his shoulder that he realised he was no longer alone.

"I'm sorry," he said hastily, pressing his thumb and forefinger to his eyes to staunch the tears. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" she breathed, looping her arm through his and stroking his bicep. "You aren't doing anything wrong."

I feel like I'm failing Leolin," he choked, savagely fighting to master himself. "I promised myself I wouldn't cry while she still needed me."

"She's your mate, Drake. She will always need you. But she wouldn't want you to bury your pain; you'll allowed to grieve, too."

Another sob tore through Draco's tattered defenses, and he bowed his head. Ginny stroked his hair the way Ari had once done for him, and he cried harder.

"It's alright," Ginny soothed. "Let it out."

"I feel so lost," he confessed. "Leolin's a wreck and I don't know how to help her, especially when I feel like I'm drowning myself. It's so selfish, I—"

"It's not selfish," Ginny said, fingers sliding through his flaxen strands. "Ari was like a mum to you, too. It's natural you should feel this way."

"Does it ever stop?" he pleaded, and he could see the pain of Fred's death crossing over her face like a shadow. "I just need to make it stop."

"I wish there was," she said. "You just have to face it one day at a time, and take strength from knowing she'd died defending the most sacred thing in her life, and that now she's in a place beyond pain."

He straightened a little and wiped his eyes, his breath stuttering but no longer quite so fractured.

"Do you really believe in an afterlife?" he said, and she considered, burnished cognac eyes alight.

"I didn't really think about it before the war," she said. "But now I do. I have to; if I didn't, I don't know if I could handle it."

He nodded, taking another deep breath.

"How is Leolin?" Ginny asked, still smoothing circles across his broad back.

Draco pushed out another long breath.

"I worry she thinks Ari's death is her fault." he confessed, and felt his throat tightening again. "I just, I—I can't bear to see her in any more pain."

Ginny gave a sad, knowing smile as he bowed his head again.

"It's understandable, given how everything played out. But your girl is a bad bitch; she'll find a way through this, just like she has with everything else. All you can do is be there for her. And in the meantime," Ginny continued, touching Draco's chin so he'd look at her. "Be kind to yourself, Drake. Ari was your family too. Let yourself mourn for that. Do yourself that kindness. Please."

He nodded, and she brushed another of his tears away with her thumb.

"I don't deserve either of you," he said, and she smiled.

"Draco Malfoy, I had every reason in the world to hate your guts, and you still managed to win my loyalty, my admiration, and my eternal love and trust. And not just mine, but also the love and loyalty of that goddess among mortals you call a fiancée. If that doesn't prove your worthiness, I don't know what could."

He couldn't quite stifle a laugh as something eased in his chest for the first time in nearly three days.

"What's going on with Croften Teller?" he said after a minute. "Please tell me he just came to kiss the ring and beg for Leolin's forgiveness."

Ginny gave a sympathetic wince.

"I wouldn't count on it. He didn't give specifics about wanting to speak before the council-at-large, but I don't anticipate it being very pleasant, whatever he wants."

"It's impressive, for an almost perfect stranger, how much violence that sod manages to inspire in me."

"No arguments here," Ginny said. "But wanting to murder him isn't going to make him go away."

Draco let out another weighty breath.

"What?" Ginny said, reading his somewhat defensive body language.

"Leolin would know how to handle him. You should have seen her in Greece. She played the stupid nob like a fiddle."

"She has been known to have that effect on men," Ginny said, trying to keep it light.

"And despite everything, I think he respects her. If anyone could bring him to heel, it would be her. I worry about what he might accomplish in her absence."

"Nothing," Ginny said. "Because we won't let him. And I don't think he's very popular with the American cohort right now anyway. He didn't try and persuade Saint-Croix to evacuate. There's a lot of blood on his hands."

"Maybe," Draco said, running a hand through his hair. "But you know Yanks; they can be annoyingly obstinate if they feel like someone is telling them what to do."

"There's no sense in worrying about it until tomorrow. "In the meantime, get some rest; you look terrible."

He gave a hollow laugh, and she stood, bending to brush a kiss on his cheek.

"And remember, be kind to yourself. You promised me."

"I did know such thing," he said, voice teetering between humour and despair.

She touched his face with tender admiration.

"Then promise me now. For Leolin's sake, if not for your own."

His throat ached at the prospect of Leolin lying heartbroken and lost in the dreary old Madoc manor.

"Drake—"

"I promise," he said, cutting her off, and she gave a soft smile.

"Thank you. There's still probably some dinner left. Do you want me to make you a plate and bring it up here?"

"No, that's alright," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're right; I'm shattered. I think I'll just shower and go to bed."

Ginny nodded, brushing a hand against his forearm in salutation.

"I'll see you at breakfast, then."

With that, she left, shutting the door quietly behind her. Draco felt his chest tightening again as he stood and glanced in the mirror, hating how much of his father he saw staring back at him. Turning away, he shed his clothes and stepped into the shower, turning the water scalding and permitting himself to cry again.

Twenty minutes later he dressed in warm flannel pajama pants and a Slytherin t-shirt that Leolin had last worn and that still smelled faintly like her. When he finally emerged from the bathroom, it was to find Rodames was lying on the bed. He leapt up at seeing Draco, docked tail wagging excitedly as Draco pet him.

"Hey mate," he whispered quietly, throat tight again as Rodames nuzzled into Draco's touch.

Big as he was now, Draco could still remember who small he'd been the day Ari had given him to Draco.

 _"I don't even like dogs,"_ he'd said as Ari handed him a Rodames small enough for him to hold with one hand.

 _"It's not a dog, it's a puppy,"_ Ari had said, laughing as Rodames licked Draco's cheek in hesitant affection. _"Everyone likes puppies."_

Draco had held Rodames by the scruff the the neck, examining him with scrutiny.

 _"He is pretty cute."_

 _"His name is Rodames,"_ Ari'd said, petting the puppy's soft head as Draco tucked him back to his chest. _"And when you look at him, I want you to think of me, and how much I love you, and how proud I am of the man you've become."_

Draco could still feel how those words had moved him, and how hard he'd fought not to cry at the affection in her tone. As he watched Rodames now, big eyes sparkling as he looked up at Draco in admiration, Draco felt a sob clawing, unbidden, up his throat. When he let out another, Rodames began to whine, trying to wiggle his nose under the hand Draco brought up to cover his face.

He wrapped an arm around the dog's neck, and Rodames didn't object, only settled down next to Draco and kept vigil as Draco cried himself to sleep.

* * *

Gia sat at the small, shabby desk in her bedroom, still dressed only in undergarments and a silk robe as she stared down at mostly the blank parchment in front of her. A drop of onyx ink slipped of the nib of her quill, which she held poised over the stationary, and she watched as it hit the pristine surface and made a jagged stain. Trembling, she set the quill down, her gut twisting as she was reminded of the blood pooling under corpses, stained an oily black from the emperor's foul magic.

They still didn't seem to know how Leolin's mother had resisted his magic, but the memory of seeing his hand as it made to drive into Ariadne's chest one was that Gia knew she'd carry with her to her grave.

She could still hear Leolin's screaming in her ears, and it made her feel ill. There were many types of love, Gia mused, but there were few that seemed to run as deep as the love of a mother for her child.

Gia hadn't been able to stop thinking of her own mother since they'd escaped the embassy, even as she tried to brush the feeling aside. She'd hope the need to reach out to Lauren—who was with the rebels still fighting minor skirmishes in occupied France—would eventually pass.

It hadn't. In fact, it had grown to such a pitch that Gia knew she had to write to her. The problem was that she had no earthly idea what to say. She glanced down at the only word she'd managed so far:

 _Mum_.

Her relationship with Lauren had always been strained, and despite her brother's urging, and her uncle's, and even her psychologist's, Gia could never seem to let the pain of Lauren's abandonment go and forgive her. Regardless of Lauren's assurances to the contrary, Gia had always felt like a shameful secret, an inconvenient daughter who'd been too black, too damaging to her mother's precious reputation, to be worth keeping.

An age-old resentment began to tighten in Gia's chest, and she made to crumple the parchment. However, a vision of Leolin, sobbing and broken on the floor with Ariadne cradled in her arms, flashed through Gia's mind, and she picked the quill up instead.

She'd told herself that she understood what war was, what it would entail, but seeing the carnage at the Embassy had shown her she was wrong. She'd thought after being in Florence and seeing the streets run red that she could handle it, but the truth was that she'd never really considered what it would be like to lose someone close to her. She felt guilty for being jealous of Leolin, considering that now she found herself selfishly thanking the stars that her family was still intact.

Watching Leolin lose Ariadne the way she had, Gia was finally forced to admit to herself that underneath it all, she loved her mother, and the added realisation she could easily die before getting to tell Lauren that spurred her to action.

Lowering the quill once more, she carefully wrote, _Blaise and I are safe. I hope you are too, and_ _I_ —" Gia paused, biting her lip. She knew what she ought to say, what deep down she wanted and _needed_ to say, but instead she continued, " _I miss you. Floo me when you're in a secure location."_

She sat back, reading the line over and over again before signing, " _xx, Giacomina."_

There was a knock on the door just as she was setting down her quill, and hastily she muttered a drying spell on the ink as she called, "Brin, it's open."

The door swung in and closed a second later, and Gia turned...and shrieked.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" she snarled at Beau, retreating behind a silk dressing screen.

"You said 'come in'," Beau pointed out mildly, and Gia could hear him ambling around the room. The idea of him in her space, touching her things, made her want to scream.

"Actually, you'll find I didn't," she snapped, emerging in a slouchy sweater and dark leggings. She watched his eyes flit over her frame before flicking back up to study her face, and she had to physically fight the urge to claw his eyes out by curling her hands into fists. "And since when is your name 'Brindisi'?"

"Peace, sugar," he said, holding up his hands in surrender. "I didn't come here to fight."

"Well then, that's begs the obvious question of what you _did_ come here for, doesn't it? I'm half-tempted to let Blaise catch you snooping around my bedroom just so I can watch him beat you to death."

Beau rolled his eyes, and Gia was about to snarl at him again to get out when he turned back to look at her, his expression solemn.

"I came to see if you're alright. If you needed—" he broke off, and if Gia hadn't know any better, she might have said he looked sheepish. "—someone to talk to, about the other night."

She scoffed, even as a roiling started in her gut again, horrible images of blood and death mottling her vision.

"And you honestly thought that I'd want to talk about it to _you_ , of all people?"

He didn't balk at her rebuke, eyes dancing back and forth across her face. Of all the many things she hated about Beau Taylor, the fact he was handsome was the one she hated the most. That, and the fact that he was the only other one who'd been at the embassy and who understood just how horrible it'd been.

"I haven't been able to sleep more than a few hours since we got back," he admitted quietly. "Everything that happened, watching Lefevre's mother die like that, it keeps replaying in my mind." He broke off, running a hand through his dark hair. "Perhaps I came because I'm the one who needed to talk to someone about it."

"Well find someone else," Gia said in a flat tone, and she swore she saw his face fall the smallest fraction before he nodded.

"My mistake, then," he said, giving a genteel half-bow. "Apologies."

He turned on his heel to go, and glancing at the letter again, Gia screwed her eyes shut and said, "Taylor, wait."

He paused with his hand on the knob, turning to face her.

"I'm not over it, either," she confessed. "I'm not sure I'll ever be."

He considered this, and her, before speaking again. When he did, his cadence was langud but measured, as if he'd carefully picked each word.

"I don't believe that," he said after a measure. "For nineteen, you're a very tough young woman."

"I'm twenty," she said archly. "And a _grown_ woman." She paused, letting her annoyance cool before adding, "but thank you."

He nodded.

"The offer stands. If you ever need someone to talk to about this, or anything else, let me know. Your foolish crush on Chaisson, for instan—"

" _Get. out_." she said, and he gave his usual lazy smile, though she thought she could still see the haunted wraith of a man who'd been beaten and raped shining in his eyes.

"My lady," he said, and strode out the door.

She waited several minutes before following, flexing her fingers as she walk to try and control their trembling. She wasn't sure she was ready to see Leolin after what had happened, or how Leolin would react to seeing her in turn. It couldn't have been easy, on top of everything else, to have a hoard of complete strangers watch your mother die. She took a steadying breath before she reached the iron door at the end of a long hall and pushed it open

The Order had more than doubled in size since the survivors of the Embassy and other various American cohorts had joined the order, and they'd abandoned the old chapter house for the disused chapel. It was surprisingly grand considering the austere life the brothers who'd once inhabited the abbey had lived, with vibrant stained glass windows and ornate fan vaults. Gia had helped Blaise and some of the others rotate the pews and raised them in escalation so they faced inward like an ampitheatre, instead of forward towards the alter, which had now been dragged to the centre of the space to form a makeshift focal point.

Unlike many of her fellow witches and wizards, Gia found the non-magical world rather engaging, and the transformed space reminded her of the House of Lords and Commons in Muggle London. Once, when she'd been sixteen and on break from Hogwarts, she'd charmed a guard to belief she was a member and had gone to the gallery to watch a session. It had been full of dissension and shouting, and she wondered if she wasn't in for something similar today.

The benches were already packed full, with the closed council occupying chairs which ringed what had become the council floor. Ignoring Beau, who lounged in his chair as if it were a throne, she made her way to her brother, who'd held the seat beside him empty for her. He had Ava cradled in the crook of one arm, and the other he slung over Gia's shoulders protectively as she sank down.

"Stai bene, piccola?" he asked, and she nodded, brushing a knuckle across her niece's cheek and making her gurgle.

"I'm fine," she said. She could feel him studying her the same way Taylor had, but somehow she found his scrutiny more annoying. "Smellita," she said, pushing his arm off and flicking her box braids over a shoulder to keep him from touching her again. "I said I was fine."

He pursed his lips.

"You haven't said anything about—" Blaise began, voice low.

She cut him off.

"Neither have you," she pointed out. "But you don't see me crawling up your arse about it."

"Don't be petulant," he said without malice. "I'm just worried about you."

"I know," she said finally, tone softening. After a pause she added, "I wrote to Mum."

His eyes glittered, and she could tell they were thinking the same thing. After what happened with Ariadne, there was no room for leaving anything unsaid.

"It's going to mean so much to her," he said, touching her cheek and giving her a smile that was warm but shadowed by grief. He had known Ariadne, too, she remember. "Thank you for doing that."

She pressed her hand against his.

"Ti amo," she said, and he smiled again.

"I love you too, topolina," he said, dropping his hand.

"How is Draco?" she said after a minute, and Blaise's jaw tightened in what she could tell was sympathetic pain. "Is he—"

Just then the doors boomed open, and Draco strode up what had—until yesterday—been the chapel's nave. His arrival was met with a bevy of whispers and small gasps of shock, but Draco ignored them, looking dangerous and stern. He strode to where Felix stood directly across from Gia and Blaise, and they cuffed arms at the elbow in the old Roman style but didn't speak. He then glanced across the way to Blaise and Ginny, trading a look with both of them before his eyes slid to Gia and he gave her a small wink, even as he remained unsmiling. He then turned, settling into the seat between Felix and Xavier Borgia and resting his right foot on the opposite knee.

"Shall we begin, then?" he said, sounding almost bored.

At this, a dozen voices began talking at once, mostly from the American cohort, before Crofton Teller, who was striding down from an upper pew to join Draco and the closed council on the floor, called, "Where is Miss Lefevre?"

Draco gave him a odious look.

"It's Ms.," he said, voice smooth and sharp as brandy as he drummed long fingers on the arm of his carved chair. "And she's not here."

"Yes," Teller said. "I think we can all see that. Where is she?"

Draco and Xavier traded a look that promised violence. Finally, indolently, Draco's diamond-bright eyes slid back to Teller.

"Her mother just died. I'll speak with her voice for now."

"With all due respect Mr. Malfoy," Teller grit out, his tone conveying little to no respect at all. "You're not in charge here."

Draco only sneered.

"Neither, I will remind you, are you."

Celeste rose to intervene from the second row of what Gia could now see was the American side.

"Please accept our condolences for her grievous loss," she said, looking stricken herself. "I understand better than anyone what she's going through, and it's a feeling I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy."

Gia watched Draco tense, could tell what he was just barely holding back: that if Celeste's father had only listened to Leolin, both he and Ariadne would still be alive now. Celeste seemed to sense this the same thing, and her shoulders rose as if she was preparing for a physical blow. However, Draco only gave a tight nod.

"Condolences to you as well."

Teller watched the exchange with prim impatience before beginning again.

"When is Miss Lefevre due to return?" He pressed

" _Ms._ ," Draco corrected again archly. "And when she's ready."

"I understand and respect that," Teller said with little conviction. "But we have matters of grave importance to discuss."

A surge of murmurs began in the crowd, again from the American side of the gallery. Draco didn't react, only met Teller's scowl with one of his own, which was far more deadly.

"Such as?"

Teller clenched and unclenched his fist as if struggling to master himself.

"Such as," he snarled. "The Order's next move. We need to press our advantage while it's available."

This time Draco turned to look at Felix, whose expression was unreadable. Gia suspected he'd only done it to stall and set Teller's teeth on edge, and judging by the rather unbecoming red Teller was turning, it seemed to be working.

"Not without Leolin," Draco said finally.

"Your father won't be down forever. We need to strike while the chaos is fresh."

Voice rose in assent, louder this time and accompanied by the banging of fists on the backs of pews.

"Not," Draco repeated in a lethal purr that drowned out the noise. "Without Leolin."

"So what? We're supposed to just sit on our hands until she comes back? There's a war going on, Malfoy!"

"Oh is there?" Draco snarled. " _I hadn't noticed_."

"Be as glib as you want," Teller said. "But something has to give."

Scattered applause broke out.

"Stop being a coward and say what you mean," Xavier Borgia offered, and Gia watched a brief flash of fear cross Teller's face. Not as stupid as he seemed, then.

At this, Max Brankovitch rose from where he'd been sitting diagonal from Draco and he and Teller shared a look. Draco's eyes heated like freshly-forged steel.

"If Miss Lefevre is unable to be here," Teller said, confidence renewed. "Then I move to vote on her replacement."

The crowd erupted into animated chatter, Felix and Xavier were on their feet at once.

"You don't have that right, Teller," Xavier snarled over the crowd, sending a chill hush over the din until it fell to a murmur.

"But I do," Max said, straightening to his full height. "I hold a seat in the closed council, same as you. Lefevre is unfit to lead, and she needs to be replaced."

Now Draco was on his feet, too.

"You ungrateful _swine_ ," Draco said with venom, eyes flashing with ire. "She risked her neck to rescue you from the palace, even when half the people here begged her not to. And _you_ ," he continued, rounding on Teller. "She warned you what was going to happen if you stayed at the embassy, but instead of listening to her, you sat in your high horse and followed Saint-Croix into a trap. She didn't have to go there and save your sorry arses, but she did, and look what it cost her. And now, you want to sneak around behind her back and take what's hers by rights and blood? Cowards, the both of you."

He spat on the floor to show his disgust, and the gesture was met with more than a few murmurs of assent from the original Order members.

"Things chan—" Max began, but Draco cut him off.

"Don't pretend this is about the fact Leolin isn't here. It's about punishing her for what happened to Genevieve at the Palace."

Whispers once again snaked through the room, but lower this time, as if fearing Draco's thunderous rebuke.

"That wasn't her fault," Draco continued. "You want someone to blame for everything Gen did? Blame me."

"I blame both of you," Max burst, face reddening. "Did you even care what the two of you's little game of cat and mouse did to her? All the ways you _broke_ her?"

"That wasn't Leolin's fault. It was mine."

"It wasn't though, not entirely. Lefevre is utterly without a sense of empathy or restraint. She wanted you, and she didn't care whose life she had to ruin to have you."

"So everything that Gen did, that was Leolin's fault?"

"Lefevre would have done the same to keep you, if not worse."

Draco lunged at Max, and Felix was only barely able to restrain him.

"Yes, I do blame her," Max said, expression a gnarled mixture of anger and pain. "But I'm also not a kid; I know how to separate out the personal from the professional. Lefevre is headstrong at the best of times, and downright wreckless at the worst. She's proven that time and time again. She was wreckless with Audige, and with Pucey, which lost us the coins your father used to make himself a _god._ Hell, you just admitted yourself that her decision to go to the Palace, however noble her intentions."

Draco made a noise of absolute disgust.

"I'm not going to stand here and defend her, especially to a worm like you. You want to bring this vote to the Council-at-Large? Someone else on the Closed Council has to second your challenge."

Max's eyes flicked over Felix, who sneered, and then over Beau, who quietly shook his head, blue eyes alight. Gia could see Max drowning in the silence as no one volunteered.

"Well," Draco jeered after a full minute of silence. "Will you look at _that_." He gave a chilling laugh. "Better luck next time, Bra—"

"I will."

As one, everyone whipped their heads to watch as Harry Potter rose to his feet, expression solemn and resolute. For his part, Draco looked murderous and sick in equal measure, skin draining to the colour of fresh parchment.

When the surge of whispers began to crest again, Harry finally spoke, and his voice sounded genuinely sympathetic as he said, "I'm sorry, Malfoy, but he's right. Leolin almost got herself killed in New Orleans going after Audige alone, and if Ariadne hadn't stepped in last night, she would have been stripped of her magic and all of you would be prisoners. This thing between her and Pucey has blinded her to what's really important."

"How dare you," Draco said, voice soft as death come calling. "How _dare_ you stand here and suggest that everything Adrian has done, has put Leolin through, is somehow her fault."

"Look," Harry said, voice a touch pleading. "I love Leolin, but I don't think she's the right person to lead."

"And who is?" Blaise said, rising to his feet now, too. "You? Brank? _Teller_?"

He said the last name with piteous disdain, as if it were vinegar served in place of wine.

Harry raised his chin.

"That's what the council has to decide."

Draco shook his head in disgust, eyes glittering.

"This is why I've always hated you. You Gryffindors and your fucking self-righteous 'arbiters of justice and truth' routine make me sick."

Harry ignored the jibe, but Gia heard a few muted insults from what she assumed were several former Gryffindors in the back.

"Are you going to honor the challenge?" Max demanded.

Draco grit his teeth so hard Gia was surprised they didn't grind to glittering dust.

"This isn't a dictatorship," he seethed. "Your request was seconded, so I have little choice."

The hall exploded into sound as Draco retreated to speak with Xavier, Felix, and Blaise, who'd crossed to join them, while Max, Harry, and Teller did the same. They reminded Gia of boxers prowling their perspective corners, listening to encouragement and last-minute advice before starting the first round of a match. Finally, Draco clapped Blaise on the back before turning to Teller, at which point the hall quieted again.

"The council will reconvene in three days," he said. "At which time, the debate over Leolin's replacement will formally be brought to the floor."

Teller and Max exchanged a glance.

"Tomorrow," Max said. "We don't have time for your stall tactics as you scheme about a way to maintain power."

Xavier Borgia gave a throaty growl at the insinuation, but Draco held up a hand to silence him.

"Fine, tomorrow."

"Noon," Max continued, but Draco ignored him, as if he had slipped beneath Draco's notice.

"The council is dismissed until then," Teller said, but Draco held up an imperious hand as people began to rise. At the motion, they all froze.

"Only General of the Order has the power to dismiss the council."

"But you are not General," Teller pointed out in answering fierceness.

"For today, I am."

"Yes, for today," Teller said. "Let's see what tomorrow brings."

"I look forward to it," Draco purred, before his eyes flicked up and over the crowd. "Dismissed."

With that, he turned on his heel and left the same way he'd come in, even as the assembly seemed still frozen in place. Only when the iron doors boomed shut behind him did anyone dare move. Gia watched Max in particular as he broke away from Teller and cut a direct path to Felix.

"Ren," he called to Felix's retreating back, and Felix turned only to sneer in answer, face uglier than Gia'd ever seen it.

"Don't call me that," Felix said. "That's what my friends call me, and you just made yourself my enemy."

"Ren, c'mon—" Max tried, having reached his friend now. However, Felix snarled when Max's hand brushed his shoulder, and he shoved the offending appendage off as he followed the crowd from the room.

By the time Gia glanced away from the pair, watching Felix disappear into the throng, Blaise had retreated back to her and Ginny looking strained.

"Now what?" Gia asked and Blaise and Ginny exchanged a dark look.

Ginny blew out a breath.

"Now we go to war."

* * *

 **Translations**

 **Welsh**

Bod yn ddewr, fy mhlentyn—be brave, my daughter

Wastad—always

 **French**

Veux-tu lui donner une éternelle pleureuse—will you give her an eternal mourner?

 **Italian**

Stai bene—are you okay?

piccola—little one (term of endearment)

topolina—baby mouse (term of endearment)

 **Attributions**

Come back! Even as a shadow, even as a dream—Euripides


End file.
